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)

Rays of mik-white porcelain
covered her delicate fingertips -
as she painted the vast sky
a crescent companion.

© fey (05/06/22)

orbs of blue in the drizzle of rain,
a flesh-numbing cold; myriad of pain;
red-hued cheeks and traces of benzocaine.

russet irides shift with the aegean's quick moves
through the black pupil, colors to exclude
and brows are squinting; just in slight disapproval.

clumsy dance of eyes in the dim afternoon light,
café au lait für Zwei, für dich und mich allein,
as we bid our longing gazes a sorrowful good night.

© fey (25/12/21)

our fingertips meet gently on the rim of porcelain
and as we take a sip from liquid infinity
all the numbness abides - induced by frost and rain.

the ember glow ascending from your eyes -
no tender coffee with cream could ever achieve -
is the epitome of what makes my inner child arise.

and i adore the way your index finger moves around the surface of the storm-kissed-window,
while you utter your thanks for whatever makes this autumnal evening swirl in an indigo-colored vertigo.

and i see it too.

© fey (27/12/21)

night has befallen your eyes agleam,
iris casting shadows on those unseen -
falling, falling deep; darling, dearest
my gaze will catch you from the darkest pits - you
crestfallen, asleep - weaping on the tower's peak.

© fey (27/05/22)

I see my kins dancing and laughing in unision
but I crave the silence - the forgotten sound of reverie.
Am I a part of their worldy communion
or is my world simply a lonesome treachery?

© fey (10/07/22)

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)

Today I caught a glimpse of cold,
accumulating through
a summer blazing's green-leafed hue.

In yonder search of gently swaying thunders
briscle scents of cozily wafting coffee wonders,
where rain collides and scorching light draws circles.

From where autumnal yearning lurks,
different nuances of gentle fingertips return,
directing grim muses to go berserk.

© fey (05/07/23)

On a rustic bench there laid
a single cat of dire age.
Between lushful green she gazed
longingly into the distance - as if
far away she would catch a glimpse
of home to reside in irides of an amber lynx.

© fey (05/06/22)

Summer's surrealness -
a dragonfly in space,
stars aligned in perfectly circled shapes.

Craving the tingling
foreboding sense of of cold -
burning fingertips, auburn smoke.

Autumn's delight - fiery
colorfulness, adorning
the piny mountainside.

© fey (24/07/22)

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)

The November asphalt is stolen,
enraptured and torn by
cracks of a longing summer's kiss.
Oh, where did the winter's magic go?
Where is the ice-cold embrace,
the beautifully written crystal maze
of snow?

© fey (20/11/20)

She wanted the chaos back;
amplifying, energy flowing
like a swarm of untamed crows.

The sky whispering, murmuring
in the language of exploding words,
brimming with lethal force.

Her name was Rain and alone she reigned,
the skies of her choice.

© fey (24/07/22)

And I was gentle
on my empty meadow,
as they took away
all the kindness I had.

© fey (31/05/23)

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)

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)

I like how the beige curtains gently sway in the wind like
a dancing veil has decided to become a professional prima ballerina.

I like the way the sun traces its invisible fingers on the thin surface of fabric, as if every non-existent thing is a special kind of love, no one seems to get, except her.

© fey (20/03/20)

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 -
gentle; endlessly.
Infinite depths of gray beneath the stone canyon skin
of 1980's asphalt-wrinkled face of my ardently antagonized Berlin.

© fey (17/08/23)

I am a dream dancer.
My strings are taut
over the vaults of the sky so soft.
Like a quiet muse I hear
the silent night breaking in.
Like marble, strands of clouds shine brightly,
in shades of rosé and nacre here,
those anxious sounds are getting lost,
now blanching in rust  and debris near.

I am a dream dancer,
staggeringly floating in the sea of the world,
wobbling and falling on thin ropes,
spoiled in nothingness and oh so empty,
despicably holding the here in fear.

I am a dream dancer.
And I fall
As an eternal bliss truant
To the ground.

© fey (28/12/17)

September leaves rustled in the glades of my mind,
I saw them dancing golden since August and July.

They shone gently in the tone of your eyes - russet-chestnut and striking hazel;
I still couldn't name how they struck me like a sharp blade - cruel and fatal.

And I saw your ghost lingering
in the corn fields of this autumnal dream.
You as blue aciano, me as red poppy,
complementing our floral color scheme.

A person like you doesen't even exist
and yet I am writing this.
Summer died long ago
but we were meant for the fall with the aching of the cold wind's blow.

© fey (19/09/21)

The summer light does not touch me.
It shines in delicate rivers on the brightly polished stairs,
where the gelatieri stroll with sweet iced coffee,
unimagined, oblivious.

The summer light does not touch me.
It brushes the children, who - in growing flocks -
chime their laughter atop neighbor's doors with delicate knocks;
bell-bright bicycle bells ringing.

The summer light does not touch me.
Twenty-three forty-four; peripheral car brake light coming forth.
The first leaf sonorously breathes “Goodbye; I'll leave”
and at last it creeps up, a swift cold touch -
the autumnal welcoming committee for my July melancholy.

© fey (24/07/22)

you should see me now,
dancing alone in my room,
moves as sharp as a violin bow,
a young lunatic in its full bloom.

with my fleeting interests
comics on my lap and jazz
gently displaying my awkwardness.

daredevil, deadpool and spidermann,
my only friends, well and also shazam.
okay, jokes aside, it fitted the rhyme,
dc is actually not really my choice of style.

except batman.
he is as cool as ... maybe japan?
definitely not as cool as japan.
[really not.]

© fey (25/09/19)

She learned to forget. She lingered in her heedless silence without the reverberation of a comforting echo. She spread her resigned smile across the mouldering canopy, touched the sun-kissed treetops that lined up in the background like green fortress walls.
And she went where he had disappeared to.

The nothingness.

© fey (17/12/20)

I don't want to bid farewell.
Neither to the glowing evening sun, lingering on my book pages with its last, warming rays of light.
Nor to the last corner where the cooling shadows didn't reach through to envelop the last trace of day.
I don't want to.

I want to capture the moment selfishly,
let it remain in my fist, closed ever so tightly.

I don't want the silent night to come,
I don't want this golden hours to end,
Don't go yet.
Stay.

© fey (22/09/20)

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)

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)

my soul craves the intimacy
the earth shares between the sky and the horizon
with innocent, raw
and gracious beauty

© fey (17/03/20)

where did the smoke travel to
flame dead of the wick's woe
where did you go when
chronos stopped time and
aphrodite longed to see you
as the candle's grime continues
to taint the glass from
transparent to white and black
where you onced had vanished to.

© fey (05/11/20)

won my love with a joker card,
halfway through the graveyard of my heart.

© fey (12/07/23)

i'll never forget how his radiant blue eyes
concealed such a vast, continuously expanding universe
and how his notorious laugh echoed like a toneless thunder
through my quietly admiring, sunken gaze.

the messy handwriting adorning his caffeine-kissed lips,
lovely tainting the fancy words on his fiery tongue,
as mesmerizing as the last remnants of a lunar eclipse
i was swept away easily, utterly stupid, naive and also young.

i would have loved to be absorbed by his crazy tellings,
deeply hidden underneath that soft, brownish locks of his,
containing the tempting sweetness of honey drops, indwelling
as an uncharted, seldom kind of bliss.

© fey (11/09/20)

tw: sh/scars

i trace the white lines outside
as they trace me from within
like unfinished brushstrokes
they end on the canvas of skin.

© fey (07/06/22)

as fleeting as a coelacanth
and made of tender amaranth,
in jaded hues of pale rosé,
the day's frail beauty soon decays.

to capture the grace of flaming dusk,
one has to peel dawn's unyielding husk.
a barely visible wonderland,
never to stay but never to end.

© fey (31/12/19)

Fairytales deliver less and less
the wry lovelorn's real wretchedness.

Whereas reality never competes
with a fairytale's alluring heartbeat.

© fey (19/06/22)

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)

one thought, quietly
sneaks through the 30 milligrams of amitriptyline
in an unmistakable and perfidious way.

and whispers, full of dark foreboding:
"I know serotonin isn't enough for you,
my darling."

© fey (29/09/20)

with featherlike movements
he undresses me
not with his trembling fingers but
more with the whispered words lingering on my skin

"I'm afraid of loving you."

the way his gaze travels across my body
reminds me of what Helène told me
people loving each other with eyes closed
and lips ready to explore elegantly

i said that i am always a little sad
maybe he was too.

© fey (30/08/20)

your sheepish smile resides
inbetween coffee stained book pages.

pearl-white row of teeth abide,
as those lips linger on the rim of forgotten faces.

© fey (14/07/23)

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
actually,
quite frankly
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)

In shadows deep where moonlight wanes,
Where whispers dance in eerie strains,
There prowls a creature of the night,
With eyes aglow, a chilling sight.

Amongst the hibiscus, crimson blooms,
Their petals soaked in midnight gloom,
A vampire lurks, his thirst unbound,
In silence, stalking without a sound.

He yearns for blood, a crimson stream,
A haunting echo, a silent scream,
And in the garden, where hibiscus weep,
His hunger stirs from slumber's keep.

Yet amidst the darkness, a delicate grace,
The hibiscus blooms, a fragile embrace,
Their beauty rivals the moon's soft glow,
A stark contrast to the vampire's woe.

For in their petals, life's essence lies,
A crimson hue beneath starlit skies,
But to the vampire, they hold no cure,
Just reminders of what he must endure.

So in the night, where shadows creep,
The vampire hunts, his hunger deep,
And though the hibiscus may wilt and fade,
Their beauty lingers in the darkness, unswayed.

© fey (24/04/24)

Drinking poison to thaw the frozen
numbness suffocating the beating hollow
in my chest

sometimes only a few, more often enough to
paralyze my field of view

one liter of cider and three songs of lana del rey
in the dying sunlight the birds feel comfortable
and i
i just want to have fun
for once in my life.

in the starless sea i found my supernova
enveloping me in a warm haze of light
forever and ever and ever and over
happy.

no one understandy me anyway.

© fey (06/08/2020)

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)

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)

The night isn't gentle anymore.
Its darkness has a vice-like grip,
shattered, unwelcome
on her fragile throat,
leading to a crimson door,
full of destructive, intrusive thoughts about
sleeping
with eyes never wanting to open
again.

The night no longer offers rest
for her shattered, melancholical, heavy head
to gently abide the terrors of
turning silver to red on her already scarred flesh,
beucase life seems to stay
just like that.

© fey (30/12/20)

i wish the world
would hold its breath
just for one day.

because i am running with time,
only that
time is always one step
ahead of me.

i wish that just for once,
our breath would synchronize
as one
and only one
exhale.

© fey (09/12/20)

her world is not laced with sugar and milk
and yet she decided to put them inside.
a flavor of alienated, saccharine silk,
her otherwise pitch-black morning coffee had died
maybe, just maybe, because of him.

his world levitates on honey-like force,
sticky sweetness reigns tender lips,
one evening, a bitter intruder enters with no remorse,
he stepped into her world with long regretful sips,
eager to be enchanted by this “triste malheur”,
maybe, just maybe, because of her.

they were two kindred coffee spirits,
one leaving a sugarcoated sphere,
the other one becoming a brave pioneer.
although neither of them liked
the other one’s caffeine-induced sight,
they still thought of each other,
either on sweet, milky mornings or disgustingly bitter nights.

© fey (30/10/20)

The way you're sleeping with no worry in your head,
while I'm crying and weeping endlessly in my bed,
makes me wonder ever so slightly
"What the hell is going on in my psyche?"
You, a wonderful and humble creature,
I'm begging you to be my teacher.
I'm holding on to this heavy burden,
while you willingly embrace the uncertain.
As i am gently stroking that fur of yours,
the turmoil in my head is ending its wars.
And though I am aware that you're in no need of affection,
your glistening gaze is still seeking for my attention.
I'll ask myself "Are you lonely too?",
but your eyes wander to somewhere else anew.
I f*cking envy you.
But something deep inside me tells me
that as soon as I'll leave your side mercilessly
you will look after me sadly
and feel pity towards me

really, really badly.

and finally,
maybe

understand me?

© fey (21/12/19)

i'm feeling,
i'm dreaming
exceptionally lonely today

stumbeling from phrase to phrase,
like a toddler learning to
get used to the endless space
of walking.

serotonin is a fleeting butterfly
as equally lost as the moth that died
while diasappearing in the crescent moonlight

i need a better molecule structure,
maybe a more sophisticated formula
to deminish the activity of the stupid receptors

i just want to be happy.

© fey (14/09/20)

I fear the moment the car key triggers the radio music to stop
   whenever it is pulled out of its ignition lock
and the moment the other one opens  the door to an echoless house with
   silence creeping out loud.

I thought that restless bees resided among the unoccupied spaces in our garden
   but it seems like they have chosen my hollow mind
   to settle in for another honey bargain.

With delicate movements and diligent striving
   they sweeten my flavorless anxietea
and reduce what's left of my juvenile entity.

© fey (27/07/20), (14/08/20)

The skies gleam soft, spun by cloudy filaments;
Seven vertical contrails, pearlwhite, pale;
Our time together; liquid, trickling away,
the color of alabaster, corundum, topaz -
and you have gone lost, in our broken hourglass.

© fey (25/07/22)

if i point a gun at the sky
will I have a shooting star?
because I can no longer believe in a lie,
spoken by imaginary gods from afar.
so I am going to create my own wish
with weapons made by human hands.
at least I can count on them,
for they will never diminish my devious plans.

© fey (12/12/20)