I would call you when my day begins,
I would call you when it ends.
I would call you and sing my favourite song.
I would call you when I miss your soft hands.
I would go on an evening walk and take you along
I would call you when I feel alone.
I would smile every time I touch my phone,
I would call you on the way back home.
I would call you when I feel uncomfortable
I would call you when I'm bored.
I would talk to you for hours.
I would call you when I am at a party I don't wanna attend.
I would call you when I feel sick.
But you are not here for now,
So I just hold my heart and
I make a wish.

I'm coming back, even though light
finds this different horizon.
I am here, although life
sold me at a bargain price.

I see no signes of tears,
I do not know where their shadows
have gone.

I sway on this black wave
of existence, I seek solace
in the scent of hope.

I do not want to look for flaws
of future. There's a wind
blowing inside me
that can't be satisfied with
one maudlin sigh, one lost look.

In love with your past, I am trying
to wake you up from
this long sleep.
I flee from my own loneliness.
I dedicate this farewell to you,
so that you may understand
how much silence is needed to
soothe the sky,
to placate the earth.

The sentence here is unfortunate -
reflections of love
no longer bring remorse.
I slam the door to heaven again.
I open the window to hell.

My first winter thought ends
with a body in which one
can lose oneself.
A heartbeat, a firstborn smile
are unforgettable - everything is an illusion;
its shadow trails behind me
on this poor journey.

I would like to end with a wind
that can carry away wasted tears,
bitten desires,
mismatched silence.

As I follow, I keep an eye out
for fresh traces of tenderness;
too large a dose may prove fatal.
And hatred breeds
as if the Earth were its own.

It boasts of a roadside lie,
a deaf-mute guilt, a sold-out faith.
Your world does not love me -
deceiving life, I give it the name
of loneliness.

I have been abandoned
at the crossroads again - God, will you
remember me when it turns out
that your blood flows in my veins?

I try to awaken in myself such a night
that will not be
a preface to tomorrow.
I want to look at you in the mirror
of longing - all tears will bloom
to yield forbidden fruit.

I know.
The silence will be unfathomable
when the ballad falls silent.
Pain will leave us silence,
unprepared for the journey,
at the mercy of the local
conflagration.

Burnt cities.
The horizon robbed of planets.
Before a raw flame of hope
germinates in me - desires will be poor,
even worse nostalgia,
which once descended to hell.

I will create for you a fertile,
still sleepless world;
everything that has been so far
will transform into a crocheted heart,
conceived by
your tired hands.

There will be no more God, nor man.
Not a single scream will survive.
I will not remember the moment
that became a burden insufficient
to betray loneliness.

The last season of the year will pass.
Future will crave the warmth
of the winter sky.

I come, but I know that
the poem's silence is stronger.
I find enough shade within myself
to share my light
with the silent ones.

I am here, although blissful peace
imitates my soul.
My heart does not fit on the world's plan -
I wait for freedom
to dissolve in my blood.

Imprisoned in my own mind,
I want to feel in you a remnant
of the universe,
a bit of forgotten humanity.

The night, freed from the stars,
is now just an excuse.
A protest that is hard
to admit.
Your exhausted kisses shimmer
on the thin skin of your wrists;
twilight is a sentence
from which you cannot escape.

Eternity makes tears sink under
the eyelid of sleep.
No, nothing else matters
except the past that remains to us.

One day I will understand
that sometimes a tear is enough
to start a new autobiography.
My passion
becomes a curse.

Winds stalk me,
leaves tremble at my approach …
they are frightened
of the cold that follows.
In hushed, rustling whispers,
as I pass, they ask,
“Why is it you are not afraid?”

Un-answering, my feet march on,
trodding on their fallen brethren,
lovers, sisters, and friends ...
why bother with answers,
Would they understand?

How do you explain
to a shivering leaf
that the cold can’t be as bad
as waking up tomorrow,
finding it’s become
as lonely today as every day
is going to be,

what it’s like
finding the same empty bed,
with the same lone hair
stretched out across your pillow;
a single-stranded ghost,
the constant reminder
that all too often,

hearts,
like seasons …
share a kinship of change?

Leap years. Thoughts that will never
learn to fly. A chance
that will be reborn as pride
if time so decides.

I recognized you by the taste
of your lips - too sweet to be true.
I know there will come
a time when the eyes will forget
how to cry.

What I will have left of you is a tear
turned into amber,
a silent future, a cursed era.
There will be neither shadow
nor light anymore.

There will be no more silent breath,
suffering word, fog that fawns
on my bare knees.
Tomorrow we will wake up
on the other side of loneliness -
where forests burn,
where freedom becomes torment.

I tried to admit to a life
I did not commit. However, fate,
this incurable hypochondriac,
wanted to sentence me
to a lifetime of memory.

Beyond the barricades of memories,
grace, harnessed to heaven,
echoes back to me; somewhere inside
there are sleepless tears I will never
understand. I can't dream in a way
that would make the earth
kneel before me.

I dare not look in such a way
that the sky departs forever
into the unknown.
Time will forever remain a desert island.

I try to find the silence that will bring
the ballad
sung by your heart.
I want to get to the very beginning
of the poem, even though
I know that
I don't feel like smiling.

I don't know how many light years
it will take me to find
your tenderness, the wind
that scatters pale memories.

I want to immerse myself
in the abyss of the body, to taste
the moment that glues our torn wings,
seeks existence
where only desire reaches.

Try to feel what's left of your breath,
to understand the pain
that's bothering you again.
I'm crossing out the last sentence,
it's time to start from
the beginning.

The last star will witness
this year's paradise fall.
I am falling apart into missing pieces,
I am suffocating with light.

My thoughts are adapting
to your arms. I am a guardian
with a treacherously broken pulse.

My heart,
sentenced to life imprisonment,
today is a seed
on the barren soil
of your hope.

My soul, imprisoned in shackles
of the body, today becomes
a temptation for those
who leave for
the other side of loneliness.

I look around, but I do not see
a helping hand.
The silence that permeates
my existence is associated with
an emptiness that makes it
worth abandoning life.

Once again
I dip my fingers in the shadow
of your heart. Once again
I look at myself in the mirror
of blood.

I would like to familiarize you
with future, but I know
that one day
I will run out of
tenderness, hatred will abandon
the remnants of freedom.

I throw off the ****
of the sky
from my back, I hug the Earth
that does not allow me
to dream,
does not allow me to skip
unnecessary heartbeats.

I'm sorry I lived so short a life.
I'm sorry that my dreams
were filled with sadness and regret.
Forgive me
for always having loved
too indifferently, for my light
still being too faint.

I didn't want to hurt future,
to condemn your dreams to death.
I was born too early to trust
in tears and to renounce silence.

I wanted to love you so much,
but there was still a false
blackness flowing
in my too tight veins.
I didn't understand the warmth
you offered me despite
my coldness and distance.

I'm sorry you waited so long
for my conscience to resurrect
in me, for longing to find its source.
For many years
I extinguished hope in you,
you waited a long time
for me to wake up from
this enslavement.

Don't be angry that I realized
it too late. I believe in the beginning
of the end, in the power
of lost melancholies.