allow yourself to be silent
let your cries be unheard but to one
and maybe, if you believe
you'll find your peace

you live in a place in me
that no one dares to touch
not even myself
especially myself

you leave a hole the size of your feet
every time i ask you to leave

this is an(other) act of blackmailing myself
because whenever i ask around
for help to cover the hole somehow
they always answer the same thing

*sorry honey,
that is not my shoe size

standing in a city that's constantly trying to abort its breath, we're looking at the sky

we might be defined to repeat fist-pumping anthems and tragic falls. all of them, no returns.

and you ask me, "don't you want to start over and look anywhere but at me?" that question again, and my answer is always no.

oh, baby boy, lift your headache head...

remnants of our past? oh they burn all right, fire roaring, smoke choking. they're just waiting for the next rain to put them to sleep

then they sleep, and it's morning. time to start again.

you'll be a stranger again and even though i'm choking on their ashes, i will not recognize you.

pump your fists. we'll fall again without a clue.

cheers
i took off, i'm a spring
push me down, let me go
and i'll rise higher than you know

cheers
i'm going places you never knew existed
unlit roads i told you i was afraid of?
they're more familiar than your fingertips

cheers
i'm above these stormy clouds,
crawling in space, having hard times
but safe from hurricanes

for sweet revenge.

so this is the final note,

i already sang my ideal goodbye a few months ago. cosmic tears, silent breaths. wished that not only the sound of my breathing that was missing.

i promised myself that i wouldn’t let myself go back into the well-lit corner where we tried to sync our voices so we could sound less disastrous. but then it inspired another analogy. we are that corner. more than anything else

have you ever looked at someone and thought, “you’re the young adult novel i read last month.”

written on brown was another goodbye note. unsent messages and remixes of old regrets. i got rid of idealism and embraced the disaster that was going to happen. but it didn’t work

i’ll have you know that i never read those novels anymore. i find them too naive, or maybe i’m just too bitter. i’ll have you know that i stopped after our second first meeting.

and a few days ago i thought that you were just a fuel that keeps my fingers tapping. not the destination. but i guess you won’t reach any destination with an empty tank, will you?

remember a year ago that you were just another form of my failed dream? of a regret that isn’t quite clear. you became much greater than that, you are a bigger, higher hope, thrown harder to the ground.

remember when i thought you share my madness of two. ours. it took me a few tens of stair steps and a couple of incompatible seats to realize that you never were. my naivety never went away after all.

remember when you turned your back gracefully; remember when i was glad that my pillows weren’t made of sponge? remember diamonds turning into broken glass?

you don’t. you will never. because you never knew (or pretended to not)

and in the end, i’d do it all again.

i’ll betray myself again; i’ll let myself down again. i’ll always love to think that i’m not the only one that is afraid, that is screaming my fears away.

but even after shouting my heart out and putting my mind on display, i’m not quite outside my head, not yet. i really do believe in miracles. and maybe one day someone will drop a key to my thoughts and leave me to exit them myself.

*sometimes i like to think that person is you.

salty waves.
it was all scattered diamonds
you were still on the top of my lungs
and it was like being choked by cobwebs

it would be much more painless,
if your shadows didn't play hide and seek

holding back those waves felt bitter and empty
this lump in my throat is going up, and down
and up
find me a new taste that isn't a void

and if you find a stray halo on the streets,
send it back to me