he left something
in me,
planted like a little seed
in my chaotic mind.
it was not his
physical being,
flesh nor his blood.
not his well formed
sentences
with his lying
beautiful lips.
it was the sadness
that hit me a couple
of minutes every day,
it was in every
brushstroke on my
acrylic painting,
and in every
heartbeat that
he would forever
be stuck inside.

if the depth of my
soul would be my only map
directing me in this life,
I would be like an eagle -
frustratingly desperate to
have the ability
and freedom
to fly
between
mountains
and
forests
and
seas
no destination
no expectations
no looking back
just the little body
and
enormous wings
collaborating
almost mechanically
with my
impulsive mind.

her hair is the waves
her scent is the salt
her eyes are the color
her body is the flow and
her mind is the deepness.
She is your force,
your first thought in the morning
and the last one before you fall asleep
but if you dive to deep
you will dance with the waves,
swallow to much salt,
get blinded by the blueness,
get stuck in the flow
and drown in the deepness.

barefeet on my cold floors
in a white lace kimono
a french hair clip adorns my hair
red lips
and red wine
dancing to some
60's jazz music
thinking about your hand
on my head
and your eyes glimmering
in mine
and your frustration
about the whole situation
think - if you were here
with me
dancing
please
blur out my
red lips
and
replace your
fingers with
that hair clip
and
never
ever
let go

she was like magic,
made him terrified.
her sky-colored eyes
could take away
all of his self control.
but he had to kiss her
soft cotton lips
and put his hands
on her rosy cheeks.
he felt how
her tears let go
from her damp sad eyes
and the only thing
bigger than
his stupid, extreme love
for her
was the salty bittersweet taste
from her tears
that was dancing like ballet
in his enchanted mouth.

I was that
butterfly
you could have
caught with your
bare hands,
caress every part
of my wings
with your
rough fingers.
now I fly
thousands of
miles above you,
avoiding
your hands
forever

you promised
we would
meet each other
one day.
we would go
crab fishing
and drink some wine,
looking at the sunset
a little bit drunk
on the sandy beach.
smelling the salty air.
it was just empty words.
meant everything to me,
and nothing for you.
I am just a bunch
of flowers you
got tired of
watering.
hanged me on your
wall, my flower soul
dried like a desert.
dead from all the promises
you made.
beautiful but forgotten.
and it was so
simple for you
to just buy a
new bunch
of flowers.