I remember you told me
I was like a lit candle -
Warm and soothing,
But dangerous,
When left unattended.
If I had known you’d leave,
I would’ve burned down
The house we built so
Carefully.
But when you slammed the door shut
That last time,
You put out my flame.

My mind- an empty clutter

Trying to put words on paper,

Words that have no meaning,

Words that don’t rest for a second.

It’s not the same

Since the feeling’s gone,

But my heart still stings

Of lust.

For I am cursed to always want

That which I can’t have.

My dear moon,
My old friend,
Who listens to my thoughts
All night,
Who knows my darkest secrets
And my deepest desires.
Step sister of the Sun,
You give me light when
I need it the most.
One day,
I will join you.

I thought I saw you today,
Between wild waves of the sea.
I recognized your movements:
Untamed
Dangerous
But oh so attractive
Oh so very tempting.
The sea breeze touched my face,
Just like your kisses.
I never realized how cold they were,
Until you took the sun off my sky.
You were like grains of sand
Still found on your skin
Weeks after leaving the beach.
Needless to say,
I might never get away from you.

It's butterflies in my stomach:
A chaos of wings fluttering.
They seems harmless,
Until they reach the heart
And weaken its flesh,
Making a nest out of it.
They're not butterflies
Anymore.
They're arrows
With poisoned tips,
Thrown by a Cupid
With a demon's wings.

Were I to chase the light,
I could never turn back,
not to darkness,
not to shadow,
not to any breath left untaken.
There is no end,
there is no limit.
There are only whispers
lighting flames into my head.
I might never reach it,
but every fallen star
has its own everlasting presence.

I plunged into the abyss,
knowing full well I could never see
my dear, dear sky ever again.
But sometime during the fall,
I saw light;
and it was coming from me.
Perhaps,
that's how stars are born.

I must be benighted,
for nothing engulfs me
quite like the night sky.
I must be a cosmic creature,
for nothing empowers me
quite like the sight of stars.
I must be out of this world,
for nothing feels familiar
quite like the moon.

Don't leave me wondering,
crushed by question marks,
wildly searching for answers.
Don't clothe me with doubts
and strip me of certainty.
Should you go,
attack me with reasons first,
until I'm cut open,
so I can avoid
the depths of wonder.

Walk gently through these meadows,
do not disturb that which shouldn't be woken,
that which the gods struggled to put to rest.
They hold stories your grandfather tried to tell
with trembling hands and twitching eyes,
but you rendered them fiction,
even when they were digging holes beneath your feet.
The scent of the undead seeps through the grass,
and you'd think green shouldn't smell like rotting flesh;

Walk gently through these meadows,
hold on to dear life,
or better yet,
don't walk at all.

I resemble the moon only when it's ******,
when it turns the night into
something else altogether,
an ode to the fallen stars.
I do not have the light it usually gives out,
so I sink into darkness ,
until my blood can drip again.

I built sand castles,
hoping to impress a boy
who watched the stars as a hobby.
I brought him roses,
while he was dreaming of other worlds
and I held him tight,
when his eyes were set on the sky.
I was an earthling
who tried to love him
with my flesh and my bones
and my feeble mind,
binding him to the ground like roots.
But he kept looking up.
He wished for a star,
he wished for the light that
my flawed insides couldn't bring.
So I ripped out all his chains.

Sometimes, I hear him at night,
his whispers echoing into the sky.
But my curtains are drawn.

I was banished from that kingdom
long ago.

I'd been waiting for you
on purposeless summer days,
when warmth would kidnap
my breath and my will.
I wished for rain to clean my soul
of unwanted excuses,
of unpleasant nights
when unforgiving thoughts took over.
I want your colours to overwhelm
my grey lens,
and your taste of death
to remind me that I'm living.
With you, I'm sitting on the edge of a cliff,
lip biting my courage
into daring to take the plunge.
Oh, my-
I might be flying.

I'd rip out all the stars in the sky
and leave it bare,
just to write you the poem you deserve,
with their everlasting glow and my benighted hands.
Because the darkness
had never been banished so swiftly,
as when I saw you
and you saw me.
Please keep a song of me in your heart,
as I'll keep your smile and this moment,
as I'll think about it too often,
too long.

And wouldn't it be divine,
if we found each other
on a starless night?

You do not **** a goddess.
You open up her chest,
looking for magic
and leaving darkness instead.
You caress her skin
until the stars cut through it
from the inside,
eager to be touched as well.
You look for the universe in her eyes
and you get lost,
while she has to find you again.
You do not **** a goddess,
you do not make her less than she is,
but you lose her,
if while worshipping her
you forget that she bleeds.

The witch’s hour approaches-
What an unearthly time to be alive,
To open your eyes in fear,
To shut them back into illusion.

In your tired veins, yesterday’s sorrow sneaks through;
Do they burn with numbness?
Does the air caress your venomous pores?

This girl is a witch;
A witch is a saint,
For all the saints have confessed
To having sinned.
Can a god resign?
Can he seek forgiveness?
I hold him in the palm of my hand-
Tired creature,
Old with time,
Dark with worry.
There are no resurrections left to save
What is to be forgotten anyway.

The witch’s hour passes by—
The almighty can be put to rest once more;

Sleep in a mattress of distress,
Slip in oblivious bliss.

Shivers on skin-
I walked among stars,
held them in my arms
and embraced them tight,
as I felt how my veins filled up with light.
I, too, wanted to be a fallen one,
to look for a place
where I could hope
and I could sigh,
without the pressure of having to shine.
But it failed to be found;
I turned back to the sky.

I let my  hair bow to the slow wind of hope;
I let my words fall like auburn leaves on paper;
I let my soul dare to believe
in life,
in serenity,
midst universal death.
I took the plunge
I fell head first
ready to graze harsh concrete,
but I rose.
My flight has just begun.

Shivers on skin— I walked among stars;
I walked on broken edges
I walked on broken light.

The sound of space is the mourning of a mother,
a lullaby of the past,
of all the pain it takes to become
on someone else’s demand,
and all the time it takes to disappear
by your own accord.

The night smells of burnt ash;
there are no falling wishes here,
only wicked angels.

Come, let us sleep.
It does not do to step on the dead.

I've made a point of making the difference
between being in love with someone
and loving them.
Being in love is eating strawberry ice-cream
or holding hands on a walk in the park.
It is the smell of summer,
it is the touch of the sea breeze,
it is waking up from a sweet dream.
But loving,
loving is rainy days spent in between bed sheets,
is it the immaculate silence
you can only share with a heart that beats to the same rhythm as yours,
it is the sound of thunder.
So when you tell me you love me,
I almost want to believe it,
but I look into your eyes and understand
you have no idea what you're talking about.
You're confusing it with fascination, darling,
you're confusing it with curiosity.
You're taking the street lights for stars.
You're taking the depth of the ocean
for familiar territory.
Your desire to figure me out,
to put me together like a puzzle
and the moonlight we shared
had nothing to do with love.

You see, I shared so much with you,
I expected all the things that I liked
to be tarnished by your touch,
ruined by your absence,
broken by your memory.
But they aren’t.
The moon still glows over me like I’m her only child
and she never noticed your hand
entwined with mine.
The stars still smile shyly at me every night,
and they don’t whisper your name.
Everything I once was,
I still am.
I haven’t lost any pieces
and the places we went to
don’t carry your footsteps,
they don’t haunt me.
They just exist.
I still remember.
But that doesn’t change anything.
I kingdom built with strong bricks and love
doesn’t get blown down
by the wind passing through.

Saying too much is regretful.
Saying too little is poignant.
But what is it when you feel
you've  done both at the same time?
There are words left on my tongue,
shards of sentences I'll never utter
shards that I had to swallow.
They cut deep into my flesh
and my insides turned into
a patchwork of glass, scars and blood.
And yet my mouth is dry,
tired of everything I let slip through my lips
when it should've never seen the light of day
or reached your ears
or reached your heart.
I keep thinking I should've known.
But I shouldn't have.
My mind would've gone mad
had I not released it
of some of its burden.
My heart would've dried out
had I not let
a few drops of your ocean
seep through.

I am still just a shadow.
I am still just star dust.
I am still part of a Universe I never quite knew
but I'm homesick for.
I bleed only to pull the stars out by their edges.
I close my eyes only to let the shine rest.
I look up only to remind myself where I came from.
And when you find my skin
between sheets and raw feelings scattered about
you'll flinch from the coldness.
And you won't know
what I hold inside
and that will be your curse.

I breathe in the light
and I’m already choking;

this is no place
for the girls
that have ripped their own chest open;

do not save me now
I am to dwell with the unspoken.

I've been tasting darkness on my tongue
like candy;
I've been feeling blood flowing warmly through my veins,
ready for sacrifice:
the blood of a goddess,
the shine of the brightest star the night has ever held
and the mind of the most enigmatic child
the moon has ever raised.
I have been-
I am-
I always will be.
I feel,
I feel,
I fall with such satisfaction
you'd think I'm flying.
I let the sky bear the mark of my existence.

hope is but a cruel creature
biting at your insides,
while claiming to be keeping you alive.
love is but a nail,
driven into your chest so deeply and so brutally,
you can’t ever get it out.
acceptance is but a cage,
keeping you locked from your desires
because they have wings,
and you can’t stretch your arms that far
through the bars.
but sweetheart, I reach out anyway,
and I hope,
and I love,
until my insides are nothing
but blood stained metal,
straining to survive.

To demand too much is a sin;
so is rising to where I think I belong,
to where I remember I came from.
I remember,
even if the gods want me to forget,
to erase from my memory
the stern voice
they banished me with.
I came to earth through light-
the light of Jupiter’s wrath
after I dared wish for more.
Hubris is not to be played with,
is what the scars on my back remind me each night,
yet all I understand is,
I have nothing to fear anymore.

Do not tell me how to fall,
not when I still hold the memory
of having had wings.

Has it really been that long since

flowers were blooming in my hair,

stars were shining in my eyes

and tingles were dancing on my lips?

It feels like only yesterday that

you picked all my flowers,

shot at my stars

and pressed your lips to mine

until all the tingles faded.

Has it really been that long

Since I fell into a deep winter?

Maybe spring’s just around the corner.

Today I threw away the third letter I wrote to you.
I always write them under the moonlight,
under the impression that
it might somehow make every word sacred,
every sentence holy.
I write them with shaky hands and teary eyes.
I write them for me,
I write them for you.
But when morning comes,
I taste regret on my tongue
and each letter feels poisonous.
So I rip them apart
with the same fierceness I tore myself away from you.
Closure?
I don't know how to get it
when I'm not the only one that had been hurting.
I still hang on to the unfinished.
I only wish to let go.

In another land, I could’ve been soft;
I could’ve braided flowers in my hair
and sung lullabies at dusk.
In another land,
I could’ve been mellow,
sweet like a first kiss
and loved by the sun,
blushing from his touch.

Here’s to the girl I could’ve been;
here’s to the nights I wish I were her.

Let the wine spill over the mud,
let us pretend it isn’t blood,
let us pretend we haven’t swallowed the poison
that made our insides rot with desire
for the sky,
perhaps just to see how low we can fall.

In this land I am courageous,
covered in star dust that makes my eyes water.
In this land I hold the bitterness inside,
until it’s boiling.

Let me die a legend,
let me die lost in the land that made me who I am.

I could’ve been soft.
Instead, I am rage.

The moon can’t cure my illness
if I abduct all of her stars.

I fill my veins up with light
only to control the despair,
but I am left with a vacant sky.

Minutes tremble before me,
seconds fall at my feet;
I have no time left.

The delight of reaching rock bottom
without the impact.
Let me rest.

Fill me up to the brink with hope
and leave me for dead.
Leave me in secret.

You have no idea what goes on in my mind:
thousands of flying insects,
buzzing,
biting at my brain,
spreading darkness,
and dots and dots and dots
of agony.
I'm spotted and I'm haunted
by sounds of the world below.
Madness turns me into pieces,
it eat me out alive,
it makes me bow my head down
on dirt,
and the dirt starts climbing up.

It’s alright,
It doesn’t have to be forever;
Does it?

Do you ever watch the stars and think of the ones that have fallen?
I do.
I think so much at night it hurts.

Foolishly thinking distance has any power.
It doesn’t.
Look at the sky- I feel it so close.

If ever the moon reaches you quietly, shyly,
With a light so soft it could only be my own-
Know I have sent her.

Without any words, I’ll learn to let go
In my own time;
Or maybe not at all.

Her blood is the blood of the stars,
Haven’t you heard?
They’ve played your dismissal in the choir of misfortune
And the roses you grew have found their perish
Long before the season of blossom.
Your name can’t be read in constellations anymore,
Nor can you see what you once were.

In a moment, the world turns
And the girl you knew escapes.
From the rings of Saturn she leaps,
And from her fingertips she lets go.

Under the moonlight, I understood
why darkness asked for my company
or why the stars were winking at me
each dreamless night.
I knew of my existence not as a human
but as a child of the moon, as a child born from mystery.
I bore my name and I spoke it
not in whispers,
but loudly, with a feeling of belonging
to a universe that showed itself wholly
in my complicated mind,
in my damaged soul,
in the green spark of my eyes,
which encompasses every word I've left unsaid,
in the emotion running smoothly down my cheek
whenever I was thinking of you.

There was nothing more-
nothing more than that benighted sound,
nothing more than the kiss of lady loneliness
in moments you felt
you were the only one left alive.
There would be nothing more-
never to feel the freedom
of a reckless heart beating
in a chest that isn’t decomposing ,
breath by breath.

We would’ve been more,
had we known how to be.
We would’ve been more,
had we been allowed
to demand what is ours.

There was nothing more
than your own fate smothering you,
breath by breath.

There are feelings left inside of my chest,
just waiting to be stirred up,
to heat up,
to erupt.
But I’ve learnt to bite my tongue
and tighten my fists
and close my eyes until it passes.
Because it’s temporary,
it’s always temporary,
just like everything we ever had
and I don’t hold on to the temporary anymore.
I breathe in and I breathe you out,
day by day.
My throat might clench
from every word I’ve left unspoken,
but it’s time to swallow the bitterness
and let it be forgotten.
I am not to be devoured by it,
I am not to be haunted,
I am not to be knelt down by a memory
that has always been blurry.
Even when you were right in front of me,
I could never see your edges,
as if my brain had decided right from the beginning
not to remember you.
Remember me not.
Remember me not.
Remember me not.

You lie on this bed with no sheets, only ghosts
you touch your lips in movement,
you deliver words of an author unashamed of his own limitations.
You seek to erase what has been:
out of context – unimportant,
inside this body -- crucial.
Without hesitation, you let your words slip
and your crimes spill
and you still haven't left this bed.

The third re-enactment is a joke;
the lines you rehearse haven’t been yours in so long.

For once you were touched
like you deserved to be,
by sparkling gold,
by soft star dust
that caressed you in your sleep.
After all that darkness
you could’ve never seen the menace of light,
you only wanted to escape a fate
that did you no justice.

I find myself pressing my pen onto the paper so hard,
as if to make sure
the ink will never be erased,
the pain will never be forgotten,
this feeling will never fade.
My hand hurts, but I don't stop.
Now every word feels like redemption,
but every sentence
is an act of rebellion.
I can't tell whether I can feel
or I'm numb anymore,
but the scratches I make on this notebook seem real.
They seem permanent,
even if the beating in my chest isn't.
My breath might be polluted,
my blood might be poisoned,
my love might be molding,
but my words,
they're always true.
And that's how I know I'm alive.

There’s never been much to hold on to,
much to care about.
Like a stray dog,
you’ve wandered through life
with glassy eyes and no expectations.
Now you dare dream,
you dare believe
and hope all burdens will be lifted.
You turn your eyes to the sky,
like you might once again fly,
like you were never banished,
like you never fell.

But here you are,
alone on christmas,
singing to yourself
not carols,
but songs of mourning.
No words,
only desperate cries.

The savior never meant to save you.

Whether or not I shall be forgotten
is of no importance to me,
but I want my words
to conquer the realms of time
and forever live on someone's lips
or through someone's thoughts.
I hope to enforce them with
everlasting light,
so they can serve as a beacon
in other's benighted worlds.

There's so much more out there,darling:
days of sun and warmth,
without his face,
without his presence.
There're meadows of freedom
from chains that had you so trapped,
you forgot you wanted to escape.
Yes, he's gone,
and that simple fact provokes no tears,
for, more importantly, the one who's back
is you,
in your full and newly recognized splendor.
You're a masterpiece darling,
and he's not the artist.

I wonder-
have you come to understand
why the world is silent at night
and what it means to be listening
to the darkness of the sky,
to be hoping a star might whisper to you
the secret
of how to keep waiting
of how to keep breathing
of how not to feel so alone anymore?

Forgetful to a fault-
never eager to remember what has been,
because that only translates to what I’ve lost.
And if forgetting means ripping parts of my flesh,
I’ll do it with a smile
as if I’m shedding
the no longer needed:
I’ll give my wings-
reminders of my fall.
I’ll give my sore veins-
reminders of crimson red on white skin,
of crimson red on a white moon.
No memories will stain my life,
as the night sky is stained with light
unwilling to let true darkness exist.

Heroes are only born when remembered;
but I am to be forgot.
Remember me not.

My claws are stuck into the door
-vicious creature with lust only for the ones that have left,
careless girl carelessly intoning her hymn,
word by word, undoing by undoing-

I hold an abyss in my chest,
I hold the exile I accept,
You hold my last asthmatic breath:
it breaks your lungs and blocks your throat.

In the end you beg,
in the end you receive.

Convince me of the purpose of breathing,
confide to me the reasons for letting go.

​Roses and ashes- a world is awaiting.
a mistake and you fall,
but you won’t be regretting
all the screams and the cries,
the unholy you’re creating.
Rome is falling
or burning-
there’s no difference in unmaking.

Steal me away;
Make me forget I ever lost my place
And wandered about these lands
Wandered about the forbidden and the outcast;
The ground bellowed for a bit of me
For a fistful of feathers
And a pinch of flesh.
Home never tasted like honey,
there was never a way back.

Here your life begins.
Here you find yourself drenched in solitude
That burns like gasoline every night.

This is your way of becoming one with the moon.

A crumble of dust in your mind:
that's all I wish to be,
to move around and wander,
to fit into every unpolished crack,
and perhaps find a place for myself.
As an astronaut might feel
in the infinite vastness of space:
belittled and feeble,
but spellbound,
even in the darkest spots
that might drag him to his perish.