Just creating
another forsaken album…
A hundred so-called
passionate videos,
with poetic feelings,
lipstick, white nails
that once lured you
when you were drunk,
tears and dark days,
and hundreds of cigarettes
drenched in sorrow—
the videos and pictures
I used to take for you,
and you would confess,
when you were no longer
in your demonic haze,
that you loved my sleepy eyes,
and wished you could
fall asleep inside them.
I keep them,
let them pile up,
until you stumble back home
with your emotions,
longing to die beside me,
starving for my tenderness,
aching to devour all of me.
No fire
nor ice
could mend me
but your moody existence.
Your gentle voice
when you are drowning
in a good mood,
high,
untouchable.
I knew I held you tighter
than you ever guessed—
until I fractured into fragile glass.
And still,
you made me believe
that nothing could heal me
from your merciless game.
I am starving
to wrap you in my embrace,
to engulf you
in a tenderness
that would shield you—
even if you arrived
only to set it on fire.
What havoc
could ever be as deadly
as you letting go of my hand,
asking me to pretend
that life goes on?
So I became a woman in black—
pale,
thoughtful,
melancholic,
sipping and devouring
what poisons my mind,
what dares to shape your smile
upon strangers’ faces.
What brings you alive
through my isolation?
Whenever I want to
summon you,
I only look at the sofa
and smile,
and your imaginary
smile smiles back at me—
a hallucination so perfect,
I would die to keep it alive.
It’s not about time,
nor endings.
It’s a great starvation,
for a single milligram
of your presence.
Nothing is darker
than confessing
you are my last resort—
come,
and shed my soul away.
I am grieving—
poetically,
deadly.
But who else is here
to witness my suffering?
Who counts my tears,
only to tell you later
that Nicole
is not fleeing your memory,
not hating the dark whispers
of your name,
but craving—
yes, craving—
to weep over you,
because that is all
she has left
to prove
how violently,
how ruinously,
she loved you.
And in the end,
when all illusions fade,
when silence
devours the night,
I return to the videos
and pictures,
to my sleepy eyes
that you once loved,
wishing,
always wishing,
that you could ask me
to sleep inside them again.
