This is it
The only one

Everything between the rising moon
and the setting sun
is all you've got

It'd be a shame not
to make the best of it

It's a new year
What's done is done
Today is here

Move on.

4 october 2015*

Inhale.
I hold the smoke in my lungs.
One. Two. Three. Just as you taught me.
To think;
I’ve never even thought about a cigarette
untill I met you.
The januari night is piercing cold,
my hands tremble as I bury my head in them.
The moon turns my pale skin blue.
Exhale.

Listen,
I am not crazy,
though two strangers are not meant
to yearn like we do.
I do.

Listen,
maybe I am crazy,
though I have never been before,
not;
untill I met you.

Inhale.
I know you are drunk right now,
or leaned over a toilet lid
with rolled up money between your fingers.
So I am not in my bed,
but here,
with a cigarette between mine.
Exhale.

Now I know **** well....

Did he pull the chicken out?

... ... ... I was finna say.

[for Ellie's book poem challenge]*

In last,
the brat
pointed
to the slate,
to the grid
chalked there.

"And then
he found a way out
of the maze!",
he said,

and as he spoke
he erased a line
in that last square.

He smiled,
toothless,
to his best friend:

now
both of them
had it wrong
but that cage
of loneliness
was open wide
- at last!

Its wild in here

yet so peaceful

your love has made a forest out of me

The sun isn't present today
tears are streaming down their faces
not a story to tell
my stupidity has emerged out of the blue
I was supposed to write a poem about the word "the"
but unfortunately all I could think of is the misery I am in
after I boarded a time machine and travelled into the past and realized that I wasn't present anymore