My cheeks are damp with silent tears
but you don’t seem to notice.
I reach out to get some comfort
but you offer little solace.

My love of memories falls
So many a image to hold on
They drain down infinitely
Never to stop my hoping heart

Like manna from heaven
Measured my desire even
My mind said six
But the best is seven
I overlooked the ratings of what we once shared

So long without  ago
So far without away
Present in the third eyes
I rather use that sight

Now I cuddle safe in the arms of our past  
And when the dark reality burn my inner
I sip your image down my mind
Knowing that you're there
I feel secured from the truth

It should have felt like utter ecstasy that final feeling of relief.
My soul being quenched after lifetimes of reincarnation.
Seemingly though never quite reaching Moksha.
Just as a desert always kisses the mirage of water but never tastes it.
The solace of peace that I craved.
My finger still lingers over the send button.
Call it trigger happy, but this is sadness with a nose.
Running after people trying to prove something.
Trying to confirm that I was something worth missing.
Someone worth loving.
Bending backwards like a contortionist.
Doing whatever appeases to be loved even if it was me being sacrificed.
The gods were no crueler than I was to myself.
I was a lamb in a lion’s den.
Crawling under the feet of those who never served me.
A wanderer lost in the desolate space between her mind and heart.
Logic doesn’t speak love into the life that is absent.
I see a hand reaching back the feeling of utter relief.
My soul being quenched after lifetimes of reincarnation.
Seemingly though never quite reaching moksha.

Solace is the
worn-out blue shoes and
quiet poignance of last night's dream;
an old conversation putting on loop —
a forgotten cascade tape;
morning light flitting through faded curtains,
hand holding a cup of sour coffee,
freshly brewed from loneliness chanting
stay, stay with me


Despair, old friend
visits after a dinner of pasta
blue shoes hitting pavement
passing the lanes of green and grey,
strolling around the meadow where
Gentian flowers glisten in full bloom
clouds wailing, pelting tears on
chilled cheeks, purple fingers shaking —
go home, go home


Forlorn,
distant beckoning lights,
swaying lanterns overhead saying
come, come to us
white sand on a winter shore where
you wrote my name,
next to a set of baby prints
before the waves came
and lapped them away murmuring
no more, no more


Sojourn,
running barefoot
down empty streets, crescent moon chasing
my back, scattering thoughts on the way
pine trees bending, cobblestone grumbling
at the scarlet sky, dancing with
your ghost one last time, whispering
farewell, farewell

chair is spinning around with shriveled leaves
rustling emptiness is what we have
engraved into the souls
imprisoned into the hollow beliefs.

let the dead howling
fight with the strom inside.

you will, won't you?

Croon thy words
In a tune loud.
Wrap me ****
In a white shroud.

Yell thy whine
for my chained soul,
What shall determine
The dead one's parole?

Solace me dear
For death I Fear.
Strange is yet
That All I hear!

Dead one fears
As corse is hurried.
Don't haste to the yard
Where bones are buried!

Since I hear,
Speak to me dear.
As far I am unalive
Azrael won't arrive
And
Speak to me a lie
Until I die.

I want to meet my opposite,
And attract to her beauty.
We'll find places to visit,
And travel around free.

I want her to not be afraid of being afraid
To not be afraid of not knowing
I want to know that we're made
I want us to be glowing
Her positivity
My negativity
Together an eternity

Sometimes it's best
to retreat
in the silence
and take refuge
in your own self
No one could
ever feel your pain
In the same way
as you do
my dear
do you know?
a few words of comfort
and solace
spoken softly
can surely heal our wounds
swiftly...