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.

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

this girl,
she lives for details. for beautiful, extraordinary things.
she would never drink tea from a paper mug, no, that would feel so
wrong. the porcelain with tiny painted flowers does the half of it.
she always take the longer, but way more beautiful way home. driving her red little mini cooper with the window down, holding her hand out in the spring, soon summer air. closing her eyes for short seconds, feeling the air softly touching her eyelids.
she photographs everything. maybe because the small things in life makes her the happiest. and because she knows how easy it is to forget those small things.
she lies about her own feelings, for other peoples sake, and of course her own. because lying is a lot easier than telling the truth sometimes.
and she does not have the ability to hurt people, and that is maybe her strength, but also her biggest weakness. cause somewhere deep down she knows she hurts herself the most.
she loves as deep as the sea. she has so much love in her - she often explodes. she loves creatures so easily, it sometimes scares her. and almost always hurts her. because it seems a few really love her back.
she does not have the patience to wait, if she wants something, she will get it. she is
all in
or
all out.
she is very black and white.
but still so incredibly colorful.
maybe cause she has realized - choosing to love the thousands of small, ordinary, accessible things in life is actually the simplest way to her journey of happiness. and what a colorful journey it will be.
letting all those little details, create
art.

---
you just showed up
unexpected,
just like the snow
started falling this morning
maybe with a tiny bit of
fear mixed emotions
but still with
that magical
thing you have
all over you.
that magical  
thing that makes
my heart beat
as fast as
hundreds of horse feet
on the race track,
and my hands
shake like
trembling leaves
having not the tiniest
chance, to stick to the tree
on a stormy day.

but,
just like the snow,
always
somehow, some day
melting
you
just
disappeared.

and wishing for
you to forever stay
is like
wishing
for snow
never melting.

maybe I wanted to be like all the butterflies,
flying above you in circles,
observing you,
touching you gently with my wings.
somehow pointless in your eyes,
but beautiful.
and maybe I wanted to struggle
with the fact that you were the
most beautiful thing in this
world and no words from
my butterfly mouth could ever
express that.
and maybe my wings
would take me away and you
would turn your gaze to me,
observing Me.
a simple butterfly,
out- of -this- world -beautiful.
with the strong desire,
to give you all of her,
sharing her pure butterfly soul
with a girl
with long dark hair and blue eyes,
observing butterflies, and
thinking of you.

you are
giving me
this feeling,
like
nothing
else
matters.
the world
could fall
apart,
in a thousand
little pieces.
but I would
not notice.
cause
nothing
except
you and I
matter.
not
right
now.
not
in this
very
second.

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

you are
just like
the
cut flowers
in my vase.
falling -
petal
by
petal.
disappearing.
breaking
my heart.
cause
you are
so
valuable.

when the moon
takes place
on the night sky
I instantly think of you.
maybe because your surface
seem so light,
like a magical
shine all over you.
but the thing is
I know inside that
bright moon,
there is so much
bleeding scars
from the past. from
a time in your life
when everything
was supposed to be
all magical free.
a simple star
can probably not
take all that away.
but a star always
makes the sky
prettier,
less lonely.
the lost star and the moon.
maybe we could light up
the whole night sky together.

❝she preferred
having her tea sitting
on her favorite spot -
on a stone in the most
precious glade.
gazing over
the magical
little lake.
trees hanging
like a frame
to her view,
sunlight glimpses
through the
dense leaves.
dragonflies dancing
in a waltz
around her.
she loved those
water lilies
making the
green-colored
lake looking
like the most
tremendous
painting hanging
on that castle wall.
they made her think
of you.
how you
make her
sometimes
very-dark-world
so bright.
it seemed to her
like
water lilies
and
you had
the same power -
to make something
so dull
feel so
terribly alive.❞

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.

❝ the odd girl
with long dark hair
and blue eyes,
was as always,
sitting there on that
moss green worn
park bench,
under that enormous
old oak tree,
filling the world
with all its
chlorophyll
green leaves.
her eyes deepened
in the sea
of peach-colored peony petals
surrounding her.
listening to all the
little birds singing
lullabies
for her.
observing the newborn
butterflies trying their wings
for the first time.
drinking her
strawberry green tea.
thinking of you.
your messy hair,
your
soft-like-summer-rain
voice.
your old-fashioned soul.
because you are
as magical,
unrealistic,
fantastic
as this.
you are
the one tiny
little piece
missing in
her → right now ←
beautiful fantastic. ❞

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.

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.