My ghostly heart longed for this story in ways,
it made lipstick stains appear on each and every page
and as the phrases hastily crumbled away,
under my ephemeral, sunken gaze,
the sun had also vanished from its cloudy lace,
somewhere in-between saccharine caffeine stains.
"Devourer of alienated lifes", he whispers softly,
"tell me your name, so that I may sleep in peace and bid my last farewell."
A mocking smile danced around the corners of her ink-tarred mouth, veiling the disease
of the joyous moments of a fleeting life's gentle breeze.
"You might already be aware of it", she exhales,
as she barely touches the brittle hands of her one and only lover,
known as DEATH.
© fey (06/05/21)
the sun dies gently behind the hills as I
wander through the pastel cloud’s apricot-nuance
with floating eyes of vacant iridescence.
and the sky lost all of its mighty blue,
now glimmering in a nonchalantly lilac hue
one could only describe as the universe spilled passion.
darkness manifests on the canvas of atmosphere,
its golden streaks devoured by mischievous glee
and we all sigh and finally close our eyes.
so that this journey remains all that we see.
© fey (08/04/21)
drunk on melancholy, i wander aimlessly
through the solemn state of “komorebi”,
where the sun dances in between leaves,
reflecting its countless memories.
if i had to describe how lonely each step feels,
I would tip-toe around intangible infinity.
my eyes gaze at the neighborhood like
a veil carries me through each door.
and it hurts to hear the laughter inside
because none of it has company anymore.
I wonder if the girls I spent my childhood with
are still behind those walls, in united reminiscence,
or am I the only loner chasing the spirits of the past,
lingering in each pebble my feet passes by.
© fey (02/04/2021)
sometimes you wake up
without really waking up.
you cling to your blanket like
it's the only resort in your black-tarred heart.
sometimes the bathdoor seems so far away that
you need three hours to move one foot forward
just to stop midway and feeling overwhelmed by
how the floor presses against your naked feet.
sometimes all you could manage was breathing
and maybe making some green tea in the kitchen
and that's actually all there is, a mundane accomplishment
considered normal by healthy-minded folks.
sometimes you feel nothingness gnawing and chewing
your inner self, since there is actually nothing left than
a few bits and pieces of your former, cherish self.
and you actually cry, for there is nothing to hold on to.
sometimes it feels like not living could be the only way out but
you will always find a way out of feeling insignificant.
because i did. as mundane as it might sound.
so you can too
find a way out.
© fey (24/03/21)
today the coffee turned cold before
my lips could touch the rim of the mug.
today the flowers in my garden withered before
i could watch the petals gently growing.
today the world feels less comfortable and
more lonely than ever before.
maybe tomorrow will be different but
yesterday i said that too.
© fey (15/03/21)
It‘s in your eyes
and how those honey-clear gazes draw small circles around the sky, whenever
a lovely smile vanishes in the dim afternoon light,
like a swarm of youthful birds with wings wide spread,
ready to conquer the earth's terra incognita,
utterly remaining unread.
© fey (10/03/21)
The auburn flicker silently danced across her half-closed eyelids. A barely noticeable smile ghosted around her lips, as her empty eyes bore into the flaming core of the candle. He watched her, mesmerized, in undefinable awe of what was going on behind that small barrier of flesh and bone above her eyebrows.
“Have you ever wanted something so insignificant to swallow the world as a whole?”, she whispered, eyes still locked on the tiny flame, caged inside the glass of the candle. He couldn’t manage to answer. The only visible response was irritation, unfolding between the tiny space of his eyebrows.
But then her smile widened, overshadowed by immeasurable melancholy.
And then he understood.
© fey (18/01/21)