if i am smiling,
it doesn't mean
i'm happy,
if i am laughing,
it doesn't mean
i'm happy,
if i am having fun,
it doesn't mean
i'm happy,
it only means
i'm too sad
to do anything else,
besides hide under
masks which include
fake smiles and
a happy soul.

my father warned me about
boys with black, dead hearts
but he hadn't even realized
that his deranged daughter
had become a girl with that same
kind of heart and she was scouting
for boys with nice ones, so she could
break them to pieces
and stomp on them.

but every time she tried,
she was the one who ended up
with a damaged, scratched heart
and she loathed herself for that,
the way she let herself feel even
the slightest bit of pain again.

but she coaxed herself that if she felt,
she was still human and she hasn't turned
into a emotionless, cold blooded monster,
yet.

it‘s funny you know,

how i need other people to forget about you,

but then they leave and i'm left alone with my thoughts, once again,

and all my thoughts are about you,

so, i guess you could say it‘s just the
two of us, darling.

your brown eyes
are enough to make me
fight for you,
your childish smile
is enough to make me
want you,
your tender hands
are enough to make me
only yours,
                            *and i wanna be only yours.

take this pillow,
that lays on this new, clean sheet,
and put it over her sleeping face,
just push, push, push.
push until she gasps for air
and is out of breath.

12.00pm--
now she was floating
in thin air.
she couldn‘t see herself
because she was not
even there.

13.00pm--
she barely heard
the police siren in the
far distance.
she could feel her ghost
slowly separating from
her bleeding body.

14.00pm--
all she felt were hands,
number of hands touching her,
all over her body, examining
her like she was a science project.
she didn't like it.
but soon she was going to be with
him, and that's what calmed her.

15.00pm--
finally, she was finally gone.
she didn't exist anymore.
all she was now,
was a spirit, while
her lifeless body was in
an old coffin.

16.00pm--
before she went and saw him,
she wanted to know how her
mom was holding up.
she certainly didn't expect this,
her only daughter to be dead.
nobody did.

17.00pm--
she saw him.
just a glimpse of him,
but still.
he was here, with her.
finally, they were together,
where they truly belonged.

18.00pm--
she was now in london.
she left the rainy and dull
germany and went here.
she was just a ghost,
she could go anywhere
she wanted.
after a long tine, she was
happy,
whatever that meant, now.

19.00pm--
she hasn't seen him.
she was exploring the world,
but she could sense something
was missing.
it was him.
and she would do anything
in her power to find him.
after all, she killed herself for him.

20.00pm--
he still wasn't found.
she didn't even know where she was,
heaven or hell?
it didn't feel like any of those.

21.00pm--
she was torn.
this wasn't heaven.
nor it was hell either.
it felt like something,
bittersweet.

22.00pm--
she went by her house.
she shouldn't have.
she saw her mom,
crying her eyes out on the
dinning room table.
she felt quilty, for once.
and she kept watching as
her mom screamed and cursed
at the world for her daughter‘s death.

23.00pm--
it wasn't in her nature,
but she gave up.
she shouldn't have,
but she was worn out.
her death, her dying,
was a mistake.
but she realized it a little too late,
and now it was impossible to
turn back time.

I hope I stop writing
poems about you when-
you're never gonna read them,
they are a reflection of my thoughts,
my mirror on a paper,
my unexplained feelings towards you,
and so, if you do ever stop
being the inspiration behind my poems
I will stop missing you,
longing for your touch and love,
and oh, how I hope
I‘ll stop losing myself in the
gleam in your eyes.

yellow primroses,
in your blonde hair,
the summer wind blowing
and messing it up.
you are dancing without
a care in the green meadow
that you adore
and the village where you
grew up.
floral wreaths on top
of your head,
the sun is beaming over you.
and like this,
with flowers in your hair,
flowers that almost
match your hair color,
and that sun dress that i adore,
you are still perfect,
and you'll always be.

purple*  *lips,
numb from the cold,
and not even the warmest lips,
can make the color come back.
purple  eye,
somebody had hit it,
and not even the thickest
layer of make up,
can cover it.
purple  fingers,
no blood running
through them,
and not even the rope
that has been holding her fingers,
can make the blood flow
through her fingers, again.

why don't you sleep?
why don't you take the leap?

what makes you so afraid?
why does your life fade?

without your beauty sleep,
you will be a creep,
with purple circles
and no miracles.

nothing helps you,
nothing keeps you,
you are alone,
and all along you've known.

open your eyes,
little girl.

look around you,
the world is not what it seems to be.

you are being lied
and tortured by the cruel world
which has not been aware of your pain.

nobody knows,
the real you,
except me.

and,
i genuinely hope,
that it stays like that.

only you and i,
in the real world,
alone.

going against
parents and
the world,
seems silly and
stupid,
because you
know you don't
stand a chance.

but when you
feel your
blood rushing
through your veins,
and adrenaline
pumping,
when you
have finally
proven a point,
after years of
arguing and
fighting,
you realize
that this feeling
is why you exist,
why you live,
why you are *here.

the moment i saw you,
i knew all rules
had to be broken,
just so you can be **mine.