What power you yield
in the voice of one—
to say to the world
“something must be done.”

What power you have
in the hands of two,
to do what you said
someone else should do.

Playing ball
with a sack
full of words,
I nod along
as you set up.
Clinging to my drink
as if my bones
were connected,
I trace my pocket
over and over again.
Until finally,
your voice slows,
and my hands catch
your words.
As they reach
to toss back
a response,
I’m relieved
to have something–
anything–
to do with my hands.

Blessed hands that held the brush so fine,
Spoke of stories yet untold in line.
Fingers that danced with vibrant hue,
Whispered secrets, as the canvas grew.

With every stroke, a tale unfolded,
Of passion, fire, and emotions bold.
The hands that painted, spoke of love,
As colors merged, sent from above.

In gentle touch, they shared a sigh,
As petals bloomed, and sunsets lit the sky.
With firm grasp, they told of might,
As mountains rose, and night descended bright.

The artist's hands, a language true,
Spoke of dreams, and all they'd do.
If you let them, they'd tell their tale,
Of beauty born, and emotions unveiled.

Their whispers echoed, as the art took shape,
A symphony of color, a heartfelt escape.
The hands that painted, spoke of soul,
A language universal, making us whole.

I’ll walk up to you, barely soft-footed
At the back…
Don’t turn round! I beg you! Don’t move!
For God’s sake!

I’ll nuzzle my wet forehead
Into your back.
I’ll put my hands on your shoulders.
They’ll press pack.

I’ll stick to you all over!
With whole body!
Even if they’re down on me and think,
It’s *****.

I love you greedily, endlessly! Whole,
Not half!
Asking nothing instead, recklessly ruining
Myself!

He taught me how to wield
the weapon made of words—
a blade that kills,
now saving lives,
like it once saved mine.

My own work
pulled me back from the edge.
And in it,
he lives—
my teacher,
the man behind the lines.

Words—
once carved deep in the mind—
outlive the flesh,
outlast the hands
that once shaped them.

His words stopped me
from falling
to the hundred voices
that came to ****.
They caught my train
just in time
as I stood on tracks
with no will to run.

He never held me,
never came near.
But light can shine
without a hand,
and grace can guide
a demon back
from its final breath.

He never said : “Stay.”
He never said : “Don’t die.”
He simply lived
in such a way
that I believed—
perhaps, this world
can be heaven
for someone.

And that was enough
to make me see
the hell I’d made
and the rat I’d been,
crawling through tunnels
thinking no one
ever looked down
with love.

I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean
I hoped you hadn't pushed me
I looked at you with tears in my eyes
I hoped you didn't see

I was waiting for you
Waiting for you to return
I was waiting for you to call
I hope one day I'll learn

I saw you choose your friends over me
But did I cross the line?
And I saw blood on your hands
I just hoped it wasn't mine

Let’s dance in our half-light room,
To our melody, you and me.
I have no evening dress and you also haven’t .
But I just ask you, dance with me.

You are so shy right now. It’s so sweet.
Come to me closer.I’m trembling whole.
Take my hand, and come nearer.
I’ll smile and won't say any words at all.

We’ll be circling at the edge of the Universe
In our room, where half-light is.
We’ll be silent just to dissolved
In our love. Two hearts’re in time with.

I'm gently placing my hands on your shoulders.
They are so dear, my own ones!
Let us dance. It's our evening,
Our dance under stars at our love.

I miss you sadly and so much!
And even if I just don’t know you,
Or maybe I won’t nay find you
And in no case and never lose you.

I miss the words. I miss so much
The words, that never will be spoken,
The dreams, that knotted not on me.
They’ll be fulfilled not us, but someone.

I miss the hands. I miss so much!
They would be able to hug sweetly.
I miss the hair, careless a bit,
And lips… Yes, lips! I miss them really!

I miss their touching, hot and sultry,
Which can just never been delivered.
But even as I never know you,
I’ll love you truly with a quiver.