I sit here, posting, writing,
Yearning for attention,
Hoping for hearts I might earn
From the avid reader.

I check, and check, and check again—
Yet nothing takes effect.
My heart grows tender,
Dreaming of climbing stature,
But the steep hill looms impossible to capture.

Still, I post, still I write,
Determined to yearn and fight.

For many decades, I believed
that selling my heart was worth it.
Without ceremony,
at a bargain price,
to entrust it to better hands.

I believed that the mutual morning
would return with
the first breath.
The first light green tear
will be resurrected under the eyelid -
there is too much loneliness.

It came to light - prayers
will remain unanswered
if anxiety does not find its way,
does not reach
the margin of future.

You dreamed clearly
and to spite my melancholy; I felt
the taste of forbidden words,
the breath of thoughts
that were waiting for
their turn.

You know, I would like to dedicate
to you the remnant of light -
tenderness belongs to
someone else.

Passion? Shame on me
to admit my silence.
Will I find you when one more sip
of life, the last unintentional cry,
has simply faded away?
Will you return to hand me
eternity, again late, again lost?

I found you on the wrong side
of chiaroscuro.
I asked for sleepless raindrops,
so unlike your tears.

I tried to dream the future,
so that the door would remain
open and the window would be barred.

I know that you are
still looking for a way back - dawn
will not compensate you.
Twilight will not give you
forbidden fruits, although your skin
will be rough.

I want to breathe unknown air,
feel a touch so generous
that I will forget the directions
of the world, the amount of tears
I have shed.

You immerse yourself in me,
although I miss my own world so much.
I recognize in you
the tenderness for which I still
talk to the stars,
I am ashamed of the Moon.

Did you know in whose hands
my desolate evenings die?
Do you remember
how painfully
I needed silence, when the crowd
shouted against the sky,
against fruitless hope?

I'm running away from the Earth,
I'm hiding in the attic
of my heart; among the deposits
of dust I find
your fulfilled tears
and my unrequited letters.

I am stuck in longing to the very top
of my soul. I try to erase
fear from a graphomaniac autobiography.
Nostalgia will come back
to draw the stars for you,
to soothe the smile
that is too vast to talk about future.

No one cares about my dawn;
I wake up to find at last
the right hour,
which, within the limits
of patience and forgiveness,
will remain a fulfilled desire.

Will my heart find its way back
to solitude? Will the night be lost
when I admit to
an inappropriate guilt?

in my periphery, a messenger arrived
carrying the sadness and the news of goodbye
“the roses you sent died out on their way before they could bloom
the dreams you planted were set on fire by the demons you fought”

now walking alone on the empty streets at night
staring at the moon wondering if you’re looking at it too
i would talk to moon thinking you’re hearing on the other side
beyond the seas, you were still close to me

Staring at the sky, pink-blue
That just cried its eyes out, dark-maroon
Emptiness from the inside, don’t know what to do
Close my eyes or hide inside my room
I cry in veil
As the man cut my wings
The defeat led to my feet
His actions, his words
Still haunts my existence
Should I stay or die?

The old man eats his TV dinners,
He's never learned to cook.
He believes it's a woman's job
But he never quite has the nerve to approach one.
Sure, there have been some
But far & in-between.
They don't stay long,
Bar the ones who have been there
Not to love but to take.
But he was smart enough
To cut them off
And not ache for a connection
Even if it wasn't genuine.
He has sense enough
Yet, not exactly a kind which is common.
For he finds it hard
To stand on ground equidistant.
But what is normal?

Is it such a thing as loneliness or love
Which more people take apart of?
In love there is loneliness,
Just as in loneliness there is love.
Whether it is from hearts together
Who can't stand each other,
Or from hearts seperate
Yet readily love one another.
Is it such a thing as loneliness in love
Or love in loneliness
Which more people find themselves in?
Of the equal strength it takes to stay
There is someone stronger in leaving,
Of the equal weakness it takes to wane
There is someone weaker in longing.
Yet, of the unrequited,
These are but fancy words
Which don't always flower to fruition.
And love can be won through persistence,
But to some it is akin to attrition.
The foundation of it loose & unstructured,
Rather than unbound & liberated.

Perchance, by the eye which beholds;
Some think it cowardly -
Some think it bold.
To go on loving, nonreciprocal.
To go on loving, unconditional.

I'm bored.
Bored of sitting around.
Bored of being accompanied but still feeling alone.
Bored of being up but still feeling down.
Bored of being brave but still feeling scared.
Bored of being connected but still feeling divided.
Bored of moving without movement, talking without speaking, living without living.
So I'll just lie in wait,
Waiting for a light in the dark,
Waiting for order in this chaos,
Waiting for a way out of it all,
I guess that's life; so I'll have to get on.
I'm bored.

Glimpses of the wind that carries
your breath into the sleepless distance.
The emotions of the stars -
their rust-colored eyes
no longer see future.

The skies, stripped of their blueness,
are today only sadness,
an uncertain journey to existence.

I dreamed of an omnipresent time -
I meticulously defended nearby bodies,
I pretended that my own heart
was not due to me.

The embryo of humanity stirs within me -
hope fades, loyalty to freedom perishes.
The airiness of longing hides from
me the whisper with which
I dared to adorn my thoughts.

I am too sleepless to be born
without doubt. I raise my own world
from my knees - it is not far from here
to the last heaven.

I am only a favor for which it is worth
shining piously. I would like to create
my own paradise in you.