I am just an image,
Like a flickering candle waiting to die
Like a glimpse of the sun on cloudy days
Like dead roses on my mother's grave
Like dried plants in the flower vase
Like the reflection in my lover's gaze.
I am just an image,
Like summer evenings spent on your porch
Like the first kiss that never happened
Like the scent of your perfume
Like the first time I saw you
Like one sided love and hopeless dreams
Like days that never end and nights that end too fast
Like thoughts that scare me
Like withered and dried sunflowers on my grave
Like my coffin's reflection in my mother's gaze
Like the life I wanted.
But at the end of the day
I am nothing at all.
I am just a  flickering candle waiting to die,
Just an image.
But all these memories that make
Me me are like fleeting winds
That pass away too quickly,
Sometimes too short for my liking.
Without all these moments, I am nothing
But just an image
In someone's eyes.

There was a princess
lost in and dazed by springtime sweetness.
Picture perfect gowns and rolling meadows,
In her Kingdom
Spring went on and forever.
People wished they lived at such a place,
evergreen flowers and the youth of nature.
Wished they could experience it all.
But the princess was locked inside her palace,
woe the young woman couldn't touch the flowers.
She sat there in her gloomy chamber,
looking outside to the greenest grass.
She was sad and numb but she danced in her room,
wore spring gowns for there was spring at her heart.
She breathed in spring air from within the cold walls,
An ever longing desire in her eyes to touch the spring flowers.
Little does she know for she is spring Herself,
So she touches her heart.

I lost a count of days
As they passed, one after another
A continuous seam blurring together.
As the flowers bloomed and the sun rose,
I forgot that summer was still too long, never ending like one single giant happy day.
A little bittersweet, mostly filled with silence.
Summer afternoons are never ending.
The trees are covered by a yellow hue, not a soul awake
As the shadows of children dancing on grass dances on the walls.
That used to be long ago,
Now afternoons are not an escape to have mischief your way rather dull and boring.
But the nostalgia of Summers long ago is exciting
It keeps me awake, sometimes the tears or a sad smile,
As I lose count of my days,
Waiting for the summer afternoon to pass
As the earth breathes and the birds rest.

The moon and the stars
are so beautiful when I look at them with
Drunken romance in my eyes.
The low hanging moon reminds me vainly
Of my lover's brown and beautiful eyes.
The stars spread out on the inky charcoal of night have painted
My destiny so that it collided
with that of my lover.
The dark blue and blackish expanse of the night sky above my head
Feels so magical like my lover's
dark hair touching my face.
The night lingers on like a sweet melody
One that reminds me of them.
The calm sounds of nocturnal birds
Alive at this hour reminds me of
Passionate and sleepless nights.
In this midnight hour, these animals of prey
Devour their prey, satisfying
Their long drawn hunger,
Just like you and me.
Very much alive in the devil's hour,
When the fog of madness and passion
Descended upon us like the mist settling in the treetops at night.
At night, we became one,
As you bit my skin and drew out blood.
You devoured me in mad hunger,
As the jackals howled sarcastically almost taunting that our love was a bad omen.

He embraced me and squeezed
as if I was his lifeline.
The thorns dug through my skin,
spilling blood.
I twisted in pain,
trying to wrench myself free,
but succeeded only in digging the thorns in more deeply.

The depth of his heart,
like a book shrouded in
mysticism,
wonder,
anticipation.
I flip through the pages,
until my eyes grow tired,
and my hand aches.  
The end nowhere in sight.
Whenever I almost put the book down,
I get a tiny insight into his heart.
Playing me like a fool into
short-term satisfaction,
and long-term despair.

To erase all my love for you,
I buried my heart six feet under.
You like to visit that graveyard,
to lay flowers upon my grave.
Your tears soak the earth,  
begging for a second chance
Taking the shovel in both hands,
you began digging.
My heart still beats, so fast, unevenly
For you and only you
Holding the heart very gently,
you come after me,
with the purpose of restoration