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Diána Bósa Oct 2020
I've tried to avoid you last night, looking for a silver lining, but all I could find was just a neon moon and under its halo, your shadow crossed mine again.

They sang their song in unison, a lullaby of darkness, and all I wanted was to leave, for I have already prayed enough to the mirror version of you hoping, he might have mercy on me.

But then and there, under the neon moon, its light turned against, and all at once, I wanted to stay; not just fall in love again but to sojourn on the rise.
Diána Bósa Sep 2020
You said, that I have a heart of gold.
I just smiled because I know that
since the dawn of our time
you have broken it so many times;
shattered it into oodles of pieces
which I tried to repair - time after time,
then it could no longer resemble its true self.
It became something different,
some kind of kintsugi artifact,
something golden, yet something hard:
completely useless for its predestination.
Diána Bósa Sep 2020
After restoring memory,
the used space becomes free again.
Yet still, you do haunt
the ghost drive of my heart.
Diána Bósa Sep 2020
Your heart is my only window to the world.
So please, keep it clear for the view.
Diána Bósa Sep 2020
As a committed reflectionist, you say:
'I do like to show things the way they are!'
– but you seem to forget that
by silencing other mirrors' song,
from time to time,
which & whose reality you are about to represent.
Diána Bósa Jun 2020
There's no such blade
that would be sharp enough
to slice one of one's shadow.
I grab and tear mine away, though,
kneading and reshaping it
like wet clay soil
in hope, maybe
its blackness won't scare you.

From the shapeless mass,
I yearn to give a familiar form
so you may recognize me
from even taking a glimpse at it.
You know, my shadow never lies,
always telling the truth
showing its real face,
even when mine betrays.
"Du siehst! ein Hund, und kein Gespenst ist da.
Er knurrt und zweifelt, leg sich auf den Bauch.
Er wedelt. Alles Hundebrauch."

"You see? He's no phantom but a dog.
He snarls and watches, crouching on his belly.
He wags his tail - all canine habits."

(Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe: Faust, Act II,
Before The Gate, translated by Peter Salm)
Diána Bósa Jun 2020
We grow old, but never grow up,
neither in this nor another life;
we are just ghosts with heartbeats,
simply unaware that we were here.
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