they dance around the issue at hand
like two sparrows around a breadcrumb
and unaware of the cracks in their tiny hearts
they shed their fragile feathers, one by one
until neither of them can fly away

Bright pale eyes and
long fair hair

She was a born
adventurer with a
rebellious flare

Insomniac,
she came by the lake
every night

Shining like a
torchlight
against the moonless sky

She wondered how life
was like on the
other side

And curious by heart,
she decided to find out

Stepping into the cold
black water, the air
was dead still

In the eerie silence,
she boldly
started to swim

With graceful
strokes, she approached the
opposite shore

But halfway the freezing lake,
her body could suddenly
move no more

Wide-eyed and
panicking, her cries for help
echoed in the open

Sinking, flailing
limbs and screaming 'til her
lungs grew swollen

Drowned,
she never reached the other
end of the lake

But in the nearby
village, an identical girl
still lives today

Bright pale eyes and
long fair hair

Nightgown dripping wet

worn-out marble floors
hard against black high heels
gleaming in a fifty shades of grey
under the heavy strip lights
rows and rows of cheap clothes
expensive junk for poor fools
contaminated handrails
a shocking blur of different colors
bloodshot eyes screaming
everywhere red lipstick and lace
attracting young women
smells overlaying each other
advertisements and hushed words
surrounded by general noise
pillars crumbling under pressure
faked smiles and aching feet
tired escalators
elevators that have given up
a raging headache
'exit' sign shining green

The northern night is calm and
collected, cool in his suit of a
thousand stars

Nothing betrays his facade
as he steps into the still water to
greet the early morning sun

His beautiful demise, she
sets him on fire

What is a woman
but the traits of her personality?

Would I be a better human
if I was not what I truly am
but rather something that I claim to be?

What if in the place of this sardonic,
sarcastic, snarky introvert
stood a sweet, social girl instead?

What if my *****,
vividly imaginative mind
was strictly bound to reality?

Would I be a better daughter
without all my quirks?

Could I be a better human
but the same person still?

Ancient
wooden floorboards,
dry and dusty,
creaked under your heavy
bulk of a man

Black leather boots
squeaked
as you entered the hallway,
lured by the darkness
and the strong
scent of another's desire

Hinges screeching,
screaming out a warning,
the door closed behind
your back

You never saw the danger,

only felt the dagger

He was never a part of this world,
not really, but rather like an extraterrestrial
from another dimension

A silent observer
with a pen between his fingers, watching
and making notes of untied shoelaces

He used to write rhymes about
the wonders of life, isolated in his bohemian
house and a tiny window his only reminder
of the existing reality

He was never a part of this world,
not really, but the odd bird chose to come out
of that door, eventually