something in me
stuck the day
you didn't come.
my eyes became machinery;
every sound caught
in my throat
and the silence
followed for weeks.
I smoked 14 cigarettes
in the car;
I burned at the thought
of stillness;
I was vulnerable to light;
I washed my body in the way
you said my name.

now I come
to the sound of leaving.
like the way a symphony sounds
to deaf ears,
I am unafraid of what
you will say to me.
we are different people now;
I am silent
and you are stillness;
we are tangled around
the sadness of each other.

I have been running
in between towns
waiting for your capture;
I am running
hoping to never be found.

okay, so i was the other woman.

okay, so i can’t call it that. so we were never a thing, never a label, never announced. so she was the pretty one and i was the *******. so i was never your first choice but i was, for a minute, your second.

okay, so maybe it started as cheap entertainment on the nights beer and phone calls weren’t enough and distance got the best of you. maybe i loved you then but i think i hate you now.

okay, so maybe i don’t hate you. maybe i’m just trying to pretend we never happened because maybe if it was all in my head i’d be over it by now. maybe i’m just tired, okay? of being the back-up girl. of being the one who stays, who breaks, who sits in the basement of a burning house just to feel the carpet one more time.
i just don’t want to burn anymore.

I am crazy about you
That fact is so true
I am in love with you
And you love me too
I wish you were here
That would put a smile on my face from ear to ear
I think about you daily
And miss you when you are away

poppies and chamomile bloomed roads,
covered in warm dust... such a pity
that these are the only ones left
to be pointing towards the eternal city,

where marble and stone still stand
on places gods used to walk bare-footed,
where belief was more than just demand,
until cassocks have had ancient ways sooted.

A place where manner was turned into art
And polymaths emerged from genius creation,
where Latin blood spills from heart to mart
In a continuous state of vibrant elation.

where green is the colour of oils and lust
and the sun can burn to a lemon flavour,
and the sand on the front of the boot is black
and the wine is more than a bitter-sweet savour...

There, where a walk through square paved markets
is bursting with hand-made stories,
where scratching through history's pride
would always end in timeless glory...

Alien to the things I see,
I have no intention to glance,
Through their lenses,
Alternative perceptions cannot clout
What I wish to seek.

she was so influenced by others
language, character, looks
no one knew who she truly was
or if she could ever be
just her

there are many ways to fail
and few ways to succeed.
he tried,
we failed,
we'll succeed with other people.

Talk me into
hypnosis

Walk me into
dreams

Take me into
your world

For mine
exists on paper
and yours...
I plea
to see