My heart is dark beneath the tall pines,
no light flows through the dead of night.
The shadows cling to the flesh of bark,
in dizzying heights I count all the dead stars.
© fey (19/10/23)
I wander swiftly on the edge of moonlight,
when the sun hides its translucent shadows
and the city indulges in everyone's sight,
moving under sunken, rain-starved meadows.
My name is not yours to take.
I am myself, I am thy ghostly gaze.
And I vanish from the remnants of our occupied space,
without you knowing, without the softness of your gentle face.
© fey (09/10/23)
What does your heart do at night?
It spins silk silently above the clouded sky.
And when it levitates back to thee
the moon is curdled in every beat of me.
© fey (20/11/22)
It's a quiet autumn where
your footsteps were felt last.
A cool breeze blows through
the emptiness of a concaved ribcage nest,
where once a summer boldly raged
and now the snowless winter takes its rest.
© fey (03/09/23)
And I was gentle
on my empty meadow,
as they took away
all the kindness I had.
© fey (31/05/23)
Alone in the city of melancholy,
I feel the street sides smoldering my hazy eyelids.
At night the moons of lanterns touch me only marginally
and wing cracked moths circle the illuminated edges of the panel building's decayed balcony -
Infinite depths of gray beneath the stone canyon skin
of 1980's asphalt-wrinkled face of my ardently antagonized Berlin.
© fey (17/08/23)
Inspiration: "Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo"
Alone in the city of love,
the sky sleeps under the cheekbones of stars
and night lights illuminate
the sunken hope of touch-starved hearts.
© fey (09/08/23)