You're made to be loved and not to be abused
You're made to be respected and not to be cheated
You're made to be cherished and not to be defiled
You're made to be appreciated for your commitment and not to be ridiculed
You're made to be comforted and not to be bothered by undeserved stress
You're made to be politely treated and not be emotionally wounded
You're made to be satisfied with all care and affection and not to be frustrated with tension
You're made to dwell in peace with your partner and not to be depressed and shattered
Relationship needs regular reminders of what you mean to one another

Rose petals devoured

   of inky promises

blush off garden passages

  of amaranthine radiance,

written words decayed

  on  bruised vines

   of intertwining madness,

as poetry climbed the

    walls of befallen sunlight

her voice has risen
deep and heartbroken
notes spread out so thick
they sound imprisoned

when harmonized with another
its offbeat and dragging
when by itself
its a mournful smother

yet I sit and listen
heaviness in my chest
what is behind those bright eyes
that I've been missing?

Πόλη μου μικρή, μεγάλη, φουρτουνιασμένη,
πότε με βρίσκεις στους δρόμους σου
σ'ένα παγκάκι αδειανό,
σ'ένα παλιό καράβι.
Κι άλλοτε σε δρόμους που ανεβαίνουν, σε μαγαζάκια και στροφές,
και χθες σε δρόμο που κατέβαινε και κατρακυλούσαν φύλλα, φωνές.

Πόλη μου,
πότε με χάνεις σε σκέψεις παλιές.
Σε δρόμους με ψάχνεις, μα είναι ξένοι,
παρελθοντικοί.
Και χάνεις, όλο και χάνεις.
Χάνεις και πάλι αυτή την παρτίδα,
όσο κι αν με μαγεύουν τα χάδια και τα ταξίδια,
είμαι δοσμένη αλλού.

Πόλη μου, κρύα, ζεστή, παραμυθένια,
με ζεσταίνουν οι άνθρωποι σου,
μα να πάλι, με το πρώτο κρύο
νοσταλγώ τους ανθρώπους μου.
Με ψάχνεις κι εγώ κοιτάω από την άλλη.
Ψάχνω την κλεμμένη μου καρδιά
όσο μακριά κι αν είναι,
όσο κι αν ο καιρός θρυμματίζει μνήμες,
θολώνει ματιές.
Ψάχνω.

Πόλη μου,
εσύ η αιτία.
Η αιτία του πόνου μου
κι η αιτία της χαράς μου,
ο λόγος που αγαπάω ακόμα πιο πολύ,
ο λόγος που κάθε αγκαλιά κρατάει με τους καιρούς,
-τόσο-
για να ζεσταίνει τους άχαρους χειμώνες σου.

Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade
How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;
Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.


Lend him to stroke these blind, blunt bullet-leads
Which long to nuzzle in the hearts of lads,
Or give him cartridges of fine zinc teeth,
Sharp with the sharpness of grief and death.


For his teeth seem for laughing round an apple.
There lurk no claws behind his fingers supple;
And God will grow no talons at his heels,
Nor antlers through the thickness of his curls.

At what point do you realise you're a number
How do I know that all these promises, you didn't whisper to them too
I say I've never felt this way, you say you love me
I can't stop holding myself up against them
And all I feel is scrutiny, inferiority and broken
I hate myself now for only seeing an act

On the journey from your mouth to my ears
All these words lose everything and end up empty
But I've never thought me good enough
And perhaps I never will

So the ones who come before me stand tall over me and promise to never let me go
Yet somehow in the dark, in the deep deep dark

I see you

You're alone and holding in your hands all the meaning from the words that were lost
You hold it up to me and look further into me than anyone has ever done before
And I break and the tears that leave me carry the doubt away into my pocket and form a weight
I kiss you and embrace everything you hold and make it my own
I fall into you and become aware of how much I love you

Until I reach into my pocket and they're there

Waiting to grasp my hand