All your dreams are made of
                Cloudy lemonade
The places you hide in filled with
                Sheet music
All the words you say seem to be
                Soft lullabies

The difference between dreams
                              and reality
Is the line between smiles and smirks
Is the line between crying of joy and grief
The line between laughing at a memory long lost
And crying because of a current joke
The line between Aristotle and Rowling
                Or just the horizon.

All you ever say is that you'll
                                              be allright
But don't you realize that
All your dreams are made of
                                              Cloudy lemonade?

I am done being measured by being without a man. I am so done with dating. I am getting to a point where - remembering their information?
Darling, show me you're here to stay first.
I am done remembering facts and whole pageturner conversations.
Effort?
I might put it in when I feel like it.

Dating is horrid. Spend weeks apping and talking and sharing and caring only to part after what, date two? Three?
No, I am done.

But yes, that is the paradox. I want love.
I want THAT adventure too.
But I am done begging god for love or for fate to find me a person.

I AM DONE BEING BUILT UP, WRECKED AND HAVING TO REBUILD AFTER SOME OX DECIDES TO TRY WITH ME. I am DONE with indecision. With coldness, with superiority, with children, with babies on the side, with leftovers.

Because that is what these men have tasted like to me. Leftovers.
And I am a ******* snack, a meal at a Michellin restaurant. A ******* well-rounded, thought through, social, creative and sportive prize.

So who the **** are you to bring me down.

If I had to compare you to anything at all,
Really, Oxygen would be my first call.
They say it makes us sure and carefree,
Yet it heats the body and calms it too.
So if I had to pick a thing for you to be,
I imagine you are my own O two.

Here’s how my mind fathoms you in its roll,
Here’s how I think you take your toll.
I need you and You need me,
I use you to hear, understand, see.
When you are near I concur to happiness,
When too close I edge towards madness,
More often than not it comes to the latter,
But in short, to me, you matter.

So you see,  I need you in any possible way,
Like O two, you captivate me every second of the day,
When you are gone I shake with yearning,
When you are near my heart is burning.
Therefore, should you ever have a doubt,
Know that without you,
                               I would not hold out.

Won't you be the Lighthouse to my Storm
Talking to me to get your silence
Singing to me to get me listening
Won't you be the Lighthouse to my Storm ?

Come bring calm in my silly Pandora
Because though you left the covers wide open-
And you're still steering my wings to the cold-
Amid the darkness, dear, be my Aurora ?

Won't you be the Lighthouse to my Storn
Drown me so you don't get lost in my sound
Catch me and let my persuasion float around
Wont you be the Lighthouse to my Storm ?

As it trickles down my heart,
I recognize you, a prime type of an Arachne,
How you roll your eyes, look down on me
All while it slowly drips onto the floor

As I frantically try to escape from the spun lines
Try to fight the inevitabilty of time,
Look around to try to sow the pieces
You see me as a rare being, a rare God

And like Petrichor my blood pools beneath me
you watch while I try to slip between threads
watch while I make the bleeding worse
Trip on my own mistakes and choices

As I get stuck in the spiderweb of Fate,
You prowl and see my heart deteriorate
See the Petrichor beneath me on the floor

I see you for what you are
And as I fail to get out of your spun lies and deceit
You advance and your poison is in my veins
Spills out through my wounded heart
And you?

                          You eat me just the same.

Alike the wingèd I followed the wise
but
you drew me like a moth to your flame.
Your laughter was enchanting, I surmise
The twinkle of your eyes the same.

You possess a rare internal spark
Seducing me into either the light or the dark.
It's heat both soothes me and makes me light
And the dazzling rejects all shadows that fright.
At times I am burned by your heat
Other times my wax is solidified, head to feet.

Hanging with beating wings is my decision
Curiously waiting for our impending collision.

But whether we end paralysed or entwined,
A better Icarus you'll never find.

They say I could be like sand near the seaside
And you the push and pull of the ocean
So you build and break me like the tide
Move sand away from my hands in motion
While I'm left to wait for the moment we collide.

They say I will cause your waves to break
Then how come you slither and never uncurl
With every squishing move forward I create?
Then how come even when caught, you whirl?
Even when in possession your storms culminate?

If I could only see into your whirlpools so deep
Be mesmerized by your blue, like being asleep
To fish for pearls of knowledge about you to keep

For though you gobble up any nautic attempt,
Though you defend with sloshed foam and current,
They say I am the shore and you are my ocean
And after all there is one true notion:
Your currents kiss my sandcastles every day
And willingly, my sand grains float your way.

The problem is that I love fiercely,
or not at all.

And so my emotions are drowning me. Drowning me beneath an ocean of pinpricks of hurt because you love me, but you have her.
And so your love is choking me with the feeling of being alone forever because although I have you, I dont have you.
Not even a little bit,
                          not at all.

It was as I sat outside and listened to your ridiculous stories about fashion that the smile on my face became stationary and my mind was moving all over the place. It was jumping and running around you, kissing your lips and putting my head on your shoulder and it was up and running away on the glass shards that were your blue eyes because really, they chase me everywhere.  

I could not.

The only thing I could do was sit there and smile and watch because you utterly amaze me. I watched your blue eyes peel the world layer by layer and discuss how you think life should be and all I could do was smile. Completely, utterly in love, I could only smile. Smile about what could never be, what is to be buried like dreams you never tell a soul. A smile that should be left in the dark and treated with shame. A smile of a world of hurt. A smile of being so happy someone like you exists in the world, because you are a treasure.
So I hope she cherishes you, and realizes when she curls her arms around you that she has won. She has utterly won and I am left crying on my bed and collecting my tears and memories only to fling them back into my ocean of hurt.

So you see, the problem is not you.
The problem is that I love fiercely,
or not at all.

My dad is an alcoholic.
I say is  even though he has not touched alcohol for a long time, because when you are an alcoholic, you are an alcoholic for life. There is always something in the corner of your mind itching for a drink. I know this, because I can feel that this is the truth for my father. But we never talk about it.

My dad is an alcoholic.
When I was young I used to be woken up from the sounds of music playing loudly downstairs because my dad liked to 'celebrate every evening'. I had to beg my dad to go to bed, if my mom was not there, and I had to pull off his shoes and wrap the blanket around him when he was finally in it. When I was young, my dad drove me everywhere whilst intoxicated. When I was young, my father had an accident because he was drunk driving. I saw my mother's social life slowly deteriorate because of his drinking problem. He used to hit me quite a lot when I did something wrong.
Now that I'm older, that is all over. My brother does not know any better than the way it is now.

But my dad is still an alcoholic.
Since he has stopped drinking, he has lost all sorts of appetite.  He even stopped wanting to celebrate things. He has stopped wanting to celebrate his birthday, new year, easter, even christmas. He hates christmas. I have to fight him to celebrate my birthday.

My dad has stopped being happy since he has stopped drinking.
Or maybe he stopped being happy long before that. I dont know. I just know there is an intrinsic connection between all of the things above but I dont see it because I am not him. And it hurts not to be him but to be on the sidelines and not be able to help. Because he does not let people on the sidelines in. He does not explain and he does not show, he merely is.

My dad is an alcoholic.
And I am here to tell you that that can still hurt long after the drinking has stopped.

De spelonken van jouw bestaan zijn meer dan alleen diep, mijn lief. Ondoorgrondbaar, niet vindbaar, met zoveel omwegen wegleidend van her hart.
Soms vraag ik me af hoeveel tijd je aan het graven hebt besteed.

Soms ga ik het gevecht aan, neem ik een schep mee naar je toe. Dan delf ik in je bestaan, delf ik naar je hart. Maar dan verleid jij tot een herberekende route of uitweg. Af en toe spring ik in het diepe en vind ik een robijn, maar ook die zal niet lang van mij zijn.

Je hebt gezorgd voor een hele hoop spelonken, vergetelheidsrivieren, bergen en dalen en grotten bovendien.
Meestal wil ik ze doorgronden, maar soms?
Soms hou ook ik het voor gezien.

You ruined me.

You destructed me.

Undid me.

And I bet you smiled as you slowly inhaled the ****** scent of the scratches on  my heart. I bet you spun around in joy at the scathing remarks you sent my way. I bet you did. I don't even wonder if you planned it all, I know you did. You consciously made the choice to ruin me time and time again.

Now I'm in this mess because of you. I fell in love with hard to get; hard to understand as well. I don't care if you care, I care that I hurt. I care, at least I care, about me.

Only you could have planted a seed so deep in me and then never tell me about it. Only you could've put banter so deep in my heart that I would barely understand that banter is wrong. Banter is hurt.
But due to you, it feels like love.
To be honest, I cannot count how many times that seed has ripped open my heart with its growing roots, or pierced it with the numerous small thorns on the stem. It must have been countless times, because banter is hate and hate is the love of hate and all dark sides to the moon, not the white love of the unknown. But I never understood that. And it was you.
You who did this to me.
I could tell you tales that would harrow your soul, but I guess I will leave it at this:

                        You ripped my heart out
                        Your blackened tongue burnt my soul
                        You destroyed any hope of loving I had
                        You chased all my feelings and cut me off
                        You dragged all my hopes into the dark
                                        and I hope
                          I hope you are happy

I hope you are happy, knowing that that seed inside me has bloomed, and that it probably will remain like that forever.
I hope you are happy, after having squeezed all the love out my soul and the words out my heart.
I hope you are.

I should really let go.



The muscles of my hands are sore from holding yours. The searing pain of you blocking me at every turn must have caused it. The pain your gender generally brings me.


I feel it. I really feel this heart of mine and how it yearns. Even the thickest veins throb with the emotion, with the zeal with which I miss you.

You are running away from me, like a ship running from the tide. This scares you, I scare you. The feeling overwhelms you. I know this and my heart does too. But the strength I use to carry on with you is needed elsewhere. Feet that were once made to take me further, need the energy you take. The energy you leech on.


I miss the times we called or texted. I miss how we could chat or blabber. I miss when you reprimanded me.
I'm sorry for hurting you, but you have to understand. You were hurting me so. Much. Again.

Often my heart recalls the times it's been torn apart by you. It remembers the feel of your nails on the flesh, the force with which you clawed through it. The force you used to tear me and my heart in two. My heart howls when it remembers.
Still I like you and, God knows, you like me. But you will never see me, will you?

You want me to stay surreal, be something that borders on a safe haven and an illusion. You want me to be your tempest. To be the emotion you never portrayed, the yearn for knowledge you never knew. You want me to be your perfect puzzle, your perfect little Disaster in a bottle.


Well, guess what.
Being that hurts when you're not near me.

You consume my time on the phone but it hurts that you will never meet me. It hurts to know you like me but not that much. It hurts me to realize you are that far away and still there for me. It hurts, that you and him have seen me and deemed me unworthy.


It hurts.
And I should really let go.

There's always a point

Where you feel that something is wrong. A point where you (think you) realize that the other party views you through different eyes. A moment where you wonder what it is that makes you the lonely swan, or if you even are a swan and not the duckling. A moment where you wonder what it is that makes you so different. Where you wonder if it is the books, the love for make up or maybe the love for sowing.

That moment where you wonder if your colour will ever be noticed among all the other kites in the sky.

Always that moment.

When you ask yourself if maybe it's you, not your personality, but you,
how you flirt or how you talk or how you laugh or if you're not pretty enough
If it's because of you that the one you like does not seem to recognise you
for who you are or who you could be
but does seem to like all the other lillies in the pond.

When you reach that point,
just remember:

If they go for easy,
they're not worth it anyway.

I am Sorry.
              Sorry.
                         Sorry.

I love you, I love you
so much.
                But this is you.
          It is you and I cannot
          burrow in your heart
I cannot dig and pull on knotted roots
I cannot draw the strings for you
    I am no surgeon,
             no puppeteer.

I am sorry. So, so sorry.

But this is you and you alone
And though it hurts me,

                 If it isn't you that does it,
                         It will never help.

Raw is the description that fits
Raw of scrubbing off the hurt
Raw from trying to stay happy
Raw is the flesh guarding my heart

It's not that I don't want to care too much
But fact is that close to fire, we all hurt
Close to the sun, we all tend to burn
Close to the problem we all get scared
To be close is to be vulnerable

So please forgive me if I step back
Give me some time to get myself in check
For the darkness calls me at all times
And it continues to be difficult
To scrub off the germs
                    and not just give in
                                                to the sickness of my mind

Because in all honesty, if you would consider, even for a minute, my being, I would stop in my tracks. Stop in my tracks and go back every step of the way. I would run back through storms and hurricanes, through all the hurt and problems. I would make my way back.

If you would turn around and tell me, message me, I would find a way to get back home to you. If you would shout it to the universe, I’m confident I would find out and run back into your arms. I would somehow realize and come back.
I would find out, and I wouldn’t doubt for a minute.

I wouldn’t doubt for a second.

I wouldn’t doubt at all.

I would take that aeroplane back. I would take a boat, bus, horse or whatever to get back home to you. Because for me you are home, when you are who you are, it feels right. And I might be a sap , because I would fly to the ends of the earth for a glimmer or even a millisecond of us, but so be it. I would do anything for the experience of this feeling being reciprocated. For the knowledge that what I thought we had was not my imagination or my desperate need for a man. No, if you would turn around and face me to tell me it was me, I would not doubt.
Because for me it is you. I would fly back for that. For your small talk, our fights, our shared looks, our shared smiles. For the feeling of your hand on my back, for the feeling of your lips on mine. Because as far as I can see, that was what was meant to happen. You were supposed to hug me goodbye. I was supposed to hang on, you would deepen the hug. I would bury my head in the crook of your neck and you were supposed to push me against a wall and kiss me. But then I would have to leave but at least I would have my answer because you did something.

Except you didn’t.

Except you didn’t, and I got a weird one-armed hug and an awkward conversation that I still can’t really understand. Now I still don’t know, and I hate myself for not telling, not asking. I hate myself for all the time that has passed.

But during all the time I was waiting, am waiting, I understood one thing. One simple thing.

I love you, and will love you for a long time. And if you would ever tell me you missed me and loved me too, I would honestly take the next flight over. I would land and kiss you senseless, regardless of the fact that you were supposed to make the first move. Regardless of the fact that I like my men dominant.
This is the truth. If you would honestly tell me you loved me all that time, I would.

Because I would jump at the chance to

be with you

And I’m not ashamed to admit it.

To me you are the exquisite bubbles of foam atop the sea
A Venus amongst the many Pandoras in this universe-
'tis your lovely face that showed your bloodline to me
Who, caught in its rays, had to abandon any converse.

Surely you have a clue on what you do to poor ol’ me
And know that your smile, alike a pearl-white moon,
Was made to long for when not out for all to see
A guiding light to look for during our trip in life's lagoon.

Honestly, there must be a dazzling sun somewhere on your inside
Because its lovely heat mirrors in your warmth and bright green eyes.

You appear in my thoughts like sand is accompanied by the tide
Sometimes absent but always bound to me by scientific ties.

Excuse me, my Darling, but that all just had to be said,
You inspire me to dance there where Shakespeare has tread.

You**

There are eyes that are more captivating, but your eyes have got those specks and freckles in it that come with being you. There are lips prettier than yours, but they don’t have the same attractive person behind it, the same rough voice or the cute dimples.

There are girls who would hear a louder heartbeat whenever someone looks at them. But when you look at me, there are drums in my heart when your eyes meet mine. And trust me, I don’t hear drums a lot. There are words that could probably describe better how you play with my heartstrings. Words that describe how you are the thunderstorm I get stuck in and hit by lightning just because you touch me in the tiniest way. A lignting bolt that travels through me with the light of speed and causes my heart to
jump up, drop dead and jump again

You are the falling snow I hate to walk through but love to play in.

There are words that describe you much better than mine, though, because I don’t do you any justice.

To me you are bubbles, laughter, my friends all in one room, someone blowing smoke rings and swallows in the sky. You are like my cup of coffee in the morning: the first thing I want to see. You are the voice that softly wakes me up instead of the shrill alarm clock. You are that feeling I get when I doze and realize I'm are halfway into sleep. You are the soothing warmth coming over me when I’m panicked and they tell me it’s going to be okay.

You are my dance and my groove, you are the bass that makes my ribcage move to your beat. You are the sunlight on a day it’s been pouring. You are the yellow car between all the black ones. You are the black and whites I see and all the different colors you paint my views. You are like that one red skittle that I want when there’s none leftover.

But I don’t mind.

I don’t mind at all.

The Fates only know the future
But if we could keep this bond of lives led
Even if we live apart, pass through phases of red
I hope we will remain friends

There are lines that need to be crossed
Paths chosen, words found and love given away
But even before all that, dears, let's face it:
together,
we fit.

It is as I lay between these sheets,
that my heart realizes your absence.
It feels like calm water under a full moon,
whereas our life is on so many different wavelengths.

It is as I feel the cold next to me,
that I miss the warmth you brought in discussion.
I miss the electricity your glance encased,
because it seems like an endless night.

It is as I touch the silky fabric around me,
that my dull nerve endings are noted.
I realize you always kept me alert for everything,
You kept me on tiptoes.

It is as I lay between these sheets,
that my heart finally realizes
it wants you tangled in these sheets.

In my imagination,
There's red blossoms in full bloom
a blue sky with no clouds to loom
A waterfall spills pure water in a lake
The only sounds the ones the animals make
A cottage built in a hill that can protect me
Small but big enough to set my mind free



                In my imagination,

Life is pretty good for a girl like me,

                In my imagination,

                In my imagination,
But that is all just
                
                In my imagination.



When I shake the dreams out of my hair
When I wake to the nightmares of day
When I open my eyes to close my heart
My mind is confused
My heart feels refused



But awakening is inevitable now
Dawn is breaking and people are stirring
Soon this heart to reality will have to bow
Quite possibly this mind will stop searing



The winds of change that                                Away these feet
                                                    Wept
Will once more lie down and leave us cold
Leave us in confusion with men
Leave us in confusion with women
Leave us,
            Leave us all alone.

An Achilles heel, a ticking device
Overall there is no clue what to do
To stop or to walk or to run
but

How many steps before I get back to you?

It's like you're a thought of which I never get rid
A dark feeling when I walk in the sun
A guilty pleasure I can never quite quit
The feeling of staring at the barrel of a gun
It has not yet begun, it has not yet begun

Heel of Achilles, can't you just leave me
This Minerva has never seen the value in beauty
Your smile only reminds me of time long gone
Of places where whole cities have gone.

What have you done, What have you done.

Dear Dad,
This might be selfish and stupid
This might go out with the trash
But there is so many things unsaid
So many things not discussed.

I love you, you know I do.
But sometimes we collide like meteorites
We come from different angles
And it sometimes hurts to hit you
That does not make you less of a dad than any other.

I love you, you know I do.
You were an alcoholic, I do not care.
You fight it every day, I care.
You never told us why or how or who, I care.

Nonetheless, dad, you came back to us.
This is how I know you love me.
This is why I love you more after, but I also did during.
I never stopped; you are my dad. The best dad ever.

You are strong. Maybe you cannot be there to save me all the time, but you saved you and that is all the proof I need. You are the strongest dad in the universe and you can fix anything from broken dreams to a flat tire. I would trust you with my life over and over.

I hate that you never talk about your youth, it makes your parents seem so extra dead. I hate that your dad died early because I want you around for a lifetime or more, bickering with mum and slapping her knee in the car. I’d just prefer it if nobody died but we cannot change that.

I love you, dad, and I miss seeing you and your weird interaction with us all every day because it suits you so very well. I’ve missed it all ever since I’ve moved out.

Love,
Your daughter.

Don’t talk to me
Right now
don’t say
I can’t laugh
don’t say
I hate people

I can’t stand you
’cause, you know,
It’s all right
It’s gonna be all right
I know
it’s gonna be all right

Don’t say those things
right now
maybe you’ll understand
it’ll be all right
you’re gonna be
all right
from now on.

Still water does not flow
Words can be said once
A human life cannot restart


Just like my love for you.


All things change, they say
Everything comes and goes
So why don’t you?


Even after a thousand broken clocks,
hundreds of raindrops on my roof,
at least ten Cupid’s arrows,

*I just cannot forget you.

Keep them locked up, Dear,
Fight for them when they tear.
Draw in the strings of hope
Pull back those cords of laughter
Dissolve the lines towards love
Pull them back -
                              Take them back!

For barely mended strings make broken promises
Hollow words turn to hollow lives
Faded red lines causes stray searches
But most of all, they bring reality.

For you are My Puppeteer
And when I look back on my strings
I feel the emotions coursing through my veins,
I feel the hooks in my soul irritating my skin
The venom coil before it strikes.

Yes. You are My Puppeteer
And for good or for worse,
The cords are always near.

Home.

I never realized I could make a home in another country, Mum, but here I am.
I feel safe when I get up and go for a coffee in pajamas or a towel after a shower. The sound of the toilet no longer scares me and the dead spider in the upper left corner of the bathroom doesn't either.

I know exactly how to use the hobs, the quirks of the oven and the whereabouts of every utensil. I know I can knock on his door for a quick meaningful conversation, I can sit and go on about nothing with him.

Jokes are reserved for him and dutch food and general girlie conversation for her. I doubt they will miss me much, but you know what, I will. I will miss them. I will miss this, all of this.

When I come home here and there is talk in the kitchen I know I can easily join them and laugh and joke. Even if their friends are there, they won't mind if I walk in and make food in the same room. Because we all care, we all don't mind. And I know that. When I feel sad I know I could knock on his door. When I can't stop crying I know she would walk in and listen.
Well,
Just so you know, Mum.

                                                  I've found my home.

Boundaries and barriers
Who says they weren’t met?
I know my borders and lines
But
Do you know yours yet?


In the happiness of your dreams
The smile that is your face
A grown  adult knows what we are
But I am a mere woman and
You make my heart race
But not really that much
                            as much
As you could.


There are roses and stars
Dreams to shake out of my hair
Hopes to drag into the dark
Knowledge so fair even I care
But you
               You seem to barge
                                                *Right past them

The right way to assess it
is to say that it isn't broken.
It is not broken but sanded
sanded by the sands of time.

Sanded in a rough manner
By a bad technician with no clue.
Cutting in it here and there
Leaving traces in time.

Some parts have been redone
Rehashed, remade and mapped again.
Some parts were just left
Left as the gaping wounds of time.

I guess the right way to explain
is to say all the normal things happened.
But then there was a bit extra
that nobody asked for.

Love.

Love is what makes me think about you opening up, hugs, calls, reactions.
It reminds me of songs, of looks, of actions.
It creates the memories of you walking in to talk, laugh, smile and other distractions.
But it also makes me remember the shenanigans and how hateful you can be.
How fast you could leave the room after I finished my tea.
Love recalls the touch of your hands and how you danced in the kitchen with me.
And how fast we got closer and how we insulted each other playfully.
But it also remembers how you can sit and make me feel like I have no chance.
It remembers the metre between us on the bed and during the dance.

For Love Is Cruel.

It does not care or mind if it is mutual and it has no preference for a type of person in this huge crowd.
It minds not whose heart will be ****** into the fire, nor how long it took to heal before, if  it is suddenly allowed.
There is even carelessness in treating the reopened wounds after ripping bandages off the heart.
Not a single **** in the world could be given if the heart is barely able to beat on its own or will fall apart.

Because Love Hurts.
And the mind knows.

All alone. All alone.
Standing on the moon, peeking in
The girl is on tiptoes and guard
Hand over her heart, fingers crossed
All alone. All alone.

Sighing at the looking glass
Even kicking at its stand as she stares
Sometimes it seems so vivid over there
At times, it seems so pretty, so good
But in the end she is lonesome.

All alone, All alone
She eats her food and does her hair
Squints into the mirror, mends any tear
Folds any napkin, breathes humid air
All other interests are gone.
Really, she just doesn't want to be alone.

Crying near the telescope,
Jumping up, bound at her middle with a rope
But no closer does the blue sphere get
No shot at life gets in view, not yet
So there she is, all alone, all alone.

All that is left is lying under blankets staring up
Staring at the ideal she herself set up.

Curve your spine
Curl your finger at me
Smile that devious smile
Seek out my eyes

It may be foolish
Foolish to worry about it
But then let me be a fool

For there is no hate
                         in Love

Why can’t we do this
Why am I not allowed to love
Why would I never get your kiss
Why would you never love?

Come on now, they love you they say
Put you in your social place only to stay
Stay there until you find him there
A person that knows and will care

But
Why can’t I fall in love with another
How is me, blushing, such a bother
What obliges me to not want a touch
Or a kiss or a caress or such?

Stop it, they tell me
This is not how it’s meant to be
You know your status and how you look
You know he picks up girls rather than a book

But
Here I stand, my own team
Trying to fight for love
Trying to fulfill my dream.

I haven't stopped loving you yet
I haven't stopped loving you yet

Thought for a few minutes I had
but then all the things you scared away
they came crawling back, all astray

I'm sorry
But I haven't stopped loving you yet
While I know you're probably over it
My thoughts are hunted by facts you knew
Things you told me, things we did

I'm really sorry
But I haven't stopped loving you yet

If I had to compare you to anything at all,
I would say you are like Oxygen.
They say it mainly keeps us all lively,
But it also poisons us all at a slow rate.
So if I had to pick a thing for you to be,
I imagine you are my own O eight.

Here’s how my mind fathoms you in its roll,
Here’s how I think you take your toll.
I need you and You need me,
I use you to hear, understand, see.
When you are near I concur to happiness,
When too close I edge towards madness,
More often than not it comes to the latter,
But in short, to me, you matter.

Your side effects are less plausible though,
A presence like yours makes me feel low:
Your features give my being a name,
Your smarts give people like me a fame.
When you are near I lose sight of me,
Start to think deprecating thoughts ultimately.

The usual questions come first to me:
Who would want someone like me, surely?
What if the geek in me scares him next?
What if he hates books or even texts?
The next questions come later when you have left
When my conscience returns and my heart is bereft:
Why does an idiot like me even try to imagine it,
Why do I let this love consume me bit by bit?

So you see, like oxygen I need you in any possible way,
Like O eight, I am captivated by you every second of the day,
‘Tis a shame, however, that you come with inner despair,

                              You are toxic and don’t even care.

Know that I recognized you
From the beard and coat
To the jacket and smile
You were recognized.

First we met as I hurried
Hurried to catch that bottle
probably cursing as I went
Only to look up into your eyes.

Fair enough, it wasn’t romantic
We didn’t exchange numbers
Nor did we talk or call-
We didn’t really do anything at all

So until yesterday I put you
Out of my glorious mind-
Yet today you are all that I can find.

My mum teased me but surely you saw
The redness of my cheeks, not from the cold at all
Perhaps you noticed I watched you smile
Perhaps you noticed finding words took me a while

Most of all, though, you should have taken note,
That on you, my heart is
(as Shakespeare said)
                   pleased to dote.

Maybe it was a sugarspun fairytale. One that melts on your tongue before you ever experience it.
Maybe they thought it was harmless.

Maybe it was a castle in the sky. A castle in the clouds and they figured if they made it high enough, I would never reach. That if they took my wings, not even my thoughts would soar.
Maybe they thought it was harmless.

Maybe it was a paper dream that they lit up as soon as they had shown me. Or a Fata Morgana, gone as soon as I touched it.

Maybe the fates did not mean to be cruel.

But then again,
          only beasts play with prey.

Consume my heart.
Eat it raw with tender bites,
Chew it up and hack it up
Create the ****** mess you always do:
It is all yours,
My tantalizing tyrant.

You're words fallen off a page
Pages ripped out of a book
books pulled from the shelf
My pages, My books, My shelves

Dear Long-Lost-Tourist,
You seem confused as to how
You seem to wonder why, where
It seems you have no clue

You're blood dripping on the floor
You're the 2 degrees in a high fever
You're the things the world has
but nobody'd miss

You're words cut from my tongue
letters unfamiliar to my eyes
signs weird to the touch
& I guess, I wish, I think

This is me saying goodbye.

Verscheep mij naar Gedachteloos
Gooi me in de dieptes van Slaap
Vergeet me in de velden van Vriendschap

maar alsjeblieft,
alsjeblieft

Haal me hier vandaan

Niets in mijn leven gaat goed
Maar ja,
Daar is ook weer een soort rust in
Want ja,
Het gaat dus nooit echt goed.

Dus als je het je afvraagt:
Niets gaat ooit echt goed
Een antwoord waar je het maar mee doet

Mag ik nog even bij je blijven?
Al is het in gedachten
Over *** het ooit wel goed komt
Over *** we het nog eens proberen

Mag ik nog even bij je blijven?
Al is het alleen fysiek
Met je armen om me heen is het goed
Met je lippen op mijn voorhoofd troost je mij

Mag ik nog even bij je blijven?
Al is het maar een seconde
De gedachte dat het jou uitmaakt helpt
De gedachtw dat je mij ook mist doet dan minder pijn

Mag ik nog even bij je blijven?
Al is het in gedachtes
Waar ik kastelen voor ons bouw met hoop
Waar ik net wilskracht alles manipuleer

Mag ik nog heel even bij je blijven?
Zonder jou doet de wereld nog zo'n pijn

So it is, dearest, that we meet again,
if but in poem written by my own pen.

Lately your actions have had great effect,
the influence of touches was rather direct.
'Tis but a wrong resort my mind seems to take,
your love is not sound and your touches are fake.

On this cold summer night, though, I see the light,
your demeanor is friendly, your touches just right!
'T may be this body that yearns for a touch,
To be honest I cant help I made it as such.
Thus is the source of this feeling unveiled,
'tis merely lust to which this body does yield.
Brain and grey matter have now understood,
'Tis but a case of proverbial female wood.

Sorry for causing this grave situation,
surely there should be other ways for my elation.

The dust on your eyes
(I believe, I think, In my opinion)
Should have been blown away
Around the time of our goodbyes.


Get rid of the wrinkles age gave you
Lose the black and blue of the late Night
(I believe, I think, In my opinion)
Time should never have come inbetween
Our last goodbye and last hello.

Hold me tender
Hold me tight
Drag me through those terrors
the horrors of the night

Pull me with force
Treat me like a pillow
I want to be yours
Just come and say Hello

In July I lost naivety
     Well, I did not lose all
    But some of it has been strewn around

In July my heart stopped
It relapsed because I gave it to you
To you to use instead of yours
because surely a black heart
it could not beat?

In July I shoved it all aside
No, in fact, I multitasked with one sole focus
I functioned while watching at the side line
I reached my goal while looking down
In July I gave it all

But now is now and it's come in
The magnitude has struck
The heart has been returned
But I can't wash off the black
I can't scrub off the seriousness

In October I regained my heart
But lost all the more because of it.

I wish I could skip through time
Skip from laugh to laugh
Trip over a touch or twinkling eye
To get to where we should be
The dimension where we do kiss

I wish I could skip through time
Skip from plane to plane
To a time and place I need
The dimension where we do kiss

To a dimension where you smile and think
A place where no lips make the ship sink
Oh, how I wish to skip through time
Just to tip over the brink

And so, you have stopped.

But then do we have to shame this subject, do we push it away at all times? Do we forget you could have fun as well and do we not realize you are unhappy? You don't wish to celebrate life, yet why not?

You are still here and it makes me happy, why not you?
You are my pointer, my rock, I celebrate you, why don't you?

Though you stopped the drinking the illness still eats you up inside and I know because I KNOW it and I have felt it and you can't do or act this way because it waits for a weak moment and then lunges at you like a hungry mountain lion. You can show weakness to all of us, tell us all, but not to the lion. I never in a million years thought I would ask you this but please, rock, keep up your walls.

Keep up your walls and live.