Last night when the first
snow fell I was hovering
on the doorstep of

yours anxiously and
wringing my hands without a
dare to knock, even

my voice was laced by
unspoken poetry and
only stuttering

came out of my mouth.
I wanted to act; to love
out loud and fill the

space in between, but
under the shadow of a
doubt this void was made to grow.

The chimera of
yours, the only unextinct
creature in your bleak

bestiary; that's
what I really am:
formed from one-half love

and one-half throe by
you. But I recognized my
borders by learning

your limits for I
wish to forge my own path out
from your false mythology.

Trying to find my
solace in the moon of the
Fall for I lack the

lunar halo and
the velveteen, onyx shade
of yours. I wish to

be the one who at
once will make you whole, but you
are still concealing;

still hiding thyself
away behind a moonbeam
smile like a helpless

umbra does in the
sheltering embrace of the
dazzling paraselene.

I want to exile
from this still-life (though it is
still life), but I found

so hard even my
own motion within those stiff,
immobile patterns

of living... How knows?
Maybe there is no rise and
fall, but the gaudy

illusion; the cold,
inevitable stasis
of dried paint spots on a wall.

"How long is now?" - you
asked and I was aware that
there is no after

after this we have
already reached the end; the
end of our very

beginning. So, it
is on us now whether to
dare to step one step

further into the
livelong midst ere we happen
to lose the track of our time.

In this capricious
age of comings and goings
of the other side

I am blessed
for I can submerge into
your aegis, your undermind.

I am running
out of daylight and in this
forgotten chasm, soon

I will meet my own
fate to become star-blinded
But I do not mind.

My telluric heart
is going to lose its poor
blindspots of stifling

sobriety by
embracing your ravenskinned,
asterisk lighted nightshade.

In this downpour of
nil a blinding fog descended
and a venomous,

absinthe-mindedness wrapped all
over me, thus all of my
senses were out of order.

Must confess something:
I realized that for now
I do not know the

time of need for you
have become too important,
too much loved. I'm not

afraid of you but
the possibility what
this feeling could do with me.

I become a real
mermaid by your side, but just
like in that danish

fairy-tale, I shed
no tear when I cry; make no
sound when my heart is

broken; smile when I
dance on razorblades of your
human love; cease to

exist by turning
to sea foam when the love of
yours toward me is no more.