Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
---
Franziska Jan 2016
---
You told me
you loved me
but like a rose
you admired me,
plucked me
and left me to wither
without love.
© Franziska Grech
---
Franziska Jun 2015
---
My eyes closed
I was carried to the world of desires
where once in this same place
we laughed and talked
and drank wine.
The warm wind
hugged me
and held back the suppressed tears  
that begged to be let loose.
And for that one moment
everything was perfect
and I couldn't remember;
why was I sad when I came here?

And then I heard footsteps
and they returned me back to the world of reality.
Where they maybe yours, coming for the solace of that night like me ?
But they were not yours, no.

And I remembered why my heart was full of pain when I came here.
And it dawned on me why every time I go out of the house,
almost automatically I come to this same place,
taking the same route.
Because for a moment I long to have that one, perfect evening.

But I realise as I think it,
it’s only one,
there will never be another.

And that’s why I keep on chasing this route,
the route of desire
to mask the searing pain of reality.
On that karst where we once drank wine
© Franziska Grech
25/06/2015
...
Franziska Aug 2015
...
Things that make me truly happy are
Unplanned walks alone
(c) Franziska Grech
Franziska Jun 2015
So I saw your ex
And she got prettier
And suddenly I felt jealous
And I don't know why
'Cause she's your ex
And I should have gotten over you. ;
I think.
And now I go back to those old nights
Pretending you're cuddling me
Which is silly,
'Cause you're not that kind of guy.
And "I miss you"
Seems even stronger now.
And I don't know why
But I fear her even more now
Even though you're not that kind of guy
To only fall for looks.
But you're still a man.
And I'm still your insignificant, ugly 'friend'
© Franziska Grech
Franziska Jun 2015
Sometimes when the house is quiet
and everyone's asleep
I lie on the cold floor
And hold myself
because no one holds me now.
My big hair sprawled out
like a mane
Illusion of fierce.
Sometimes I look ahead
but then I look back
and fall back.
(C) Franziska Grech
Franziska Nov 2015
I am not Paris,
I am humanity
begging to be restored.

I am not Paris,
the terrorist,
the mockery.
I am the part of it
that asks why.

I am not the destroyer
the killer, the monster with a gun.

I am the disappointed , the little voice of conscience,
That tells you to look in all corners of the world
and breathe reality.

Because if you too
weep
You are not Paris,
You are the many,
The past, the present, the future
That beg for humanity to be restored.
(C) Franziska Grech
13th November 2015

— The End —