Hemingway said,
There is quite the difference
between kissing goodbye
and kissing goodnight.

I wanted a
"See you later",
but instead got the
"Goodbye".

Steinbeck stated that
Nothing good gets away,
If it's right, it happens.

If that's the case
how did we always end up feeling so
wrong?

Salinger suggested
that after falling in love
you never know
where the hell you are.

This, I can say is true.
Where the hell are we?

Dickens declared that
The truest wisdom
comes from a loving heart.

Yet a heart in love
can sometimes turn out to be
the least wise.

My friend, I think I'll just stick with
Orson Welles' theory:
"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone."

Anything else is simply illusion.

White pages
stained and blemished
Once ******
now yellowed with age

Passionate words
blurred and faded
by tears
long since dried

Thin lines
holding memories
of kisses, soft touches
and pleading eyes

Paper treasures
Printed gems
Buried
by a sea of years

No one knows
why they are kept
locked away
in a cherished nook

Until they are held
by trembling hands
on lonely nights
when old hearts ache

the world of mine has dissociated from earthly,
living lives never seen.
i dreamt in colours the day before,
awaken fear, dug deep as it been.

the fortune has plans, i never know,
suspecting its will in many ways.
the words that are meant to be told,
today i gave up,
but could not hold the other day.

reality shimmers before petrified soul,
ideas of an alien dismantling my bones.
the future of life left behind,
the doors that i’ve closed forty days ago.

the noise of the bells sung far away,
the smoke of existence dissolved in the sky,
the outburst of tears cemented in throat,
moaned silently and evaporated in tide.

the snow will be painted in crimson,
my soul has altered in vain…
the sun stands blind on the edge of the window,
eyes closed and betrayed…

the mouth touched by the pain of the other,
the earth soaked with the tears of estranged.
“have you seen myself lately?”
for many more years the question has aired.

sewn up with the wings,
has passed through the meadows,
i’ve looked for it dwelling in streets,
while cold hands of sorrow has caressed  my elbows.

glanced for the last time, the words that are last,
rotten, elapsed in my mouth…
we see each other no more,
my youth! our days are already gone.

The wind has cracked in the streets,
swirling and dazed it has crushed into me.
startled with sight of the wrinkled face,
went on and never looked back again…