"nadya" poems
*It's hard to keep going everyday without you...
I miss you, y'know? I miss you...
I miss your smiling eyes that belied your emotionless face
I miss all our long conversations into the deep night
Whether they were absolutely meaningless or serious
Just to lay with you long after I should have been asleep...
Yeah, I miss you...
I miss kissing your forehead everytime we had to say goodbye
I miss the anticipation of seeing you after we'd been away
I miss all of your poetry you carved into my spirit
Barfight
On How to Love a God
If You Talk Enough Sense You'll Lose Your Mind
Nadya and Fatima (Such a great one)
Sun Kissed
Woman Lay With Wolves...
I bet you didn't think I'd know your poems like that...
But you overcame my stubborn heart & I carved you into me
Molded and sewed every stitch of you to me
& I miss how you stole my heart away...
& I miss how I fell in love with your mind long before I fell in love with your body. (What a body it is, too)
I don't know if you'll ever see this letter to you
Part of me doesn't want you to because you'll know
Just how many tears I've shed missing you
& how bitter I am that you were ripped away from me
I miss you, y'know? I miss you...
& even though you're gone away
You left your sparkle in my eyes...*
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 4:48 PM UTC
If she could have got
inside her head, Nadya
thinks, she is sure, her
mind can expand like an
inner universe. The thoughts
moving around like lost
planets, clusters of stars,
images, words, faces, actions
remembered. If she could
just put her hand into a
hidden orifice and reach
into her brain and sort
amongst the galaxies of
ideas she could be brighter,
braver, wiser, and there
clinging to certain ideas
associations like Proust’s
madeleines would be old
loves, broken heart moments,
melodies from favourite songs.
Josef has told her to leave
off the ***** to put away
the bottles, drink water, tea
or whatever. But he does
not satisfy. His love making
is a joke, all push and poke.
Sometimes she thinks her
thoughts come out of her
head and dance. Time for
another drink. She thinks
of Paris. Summers past,
spring walks. Josef’s endless
chatter breaks in; those all
too intellectual boring talks.
She imagines him as another,
pretends some young Russian
overeager tends to her, embraces
her body, kisses each inch of her
flesh, pleasure giving. No more of
this boring life, more of that wild,
touching the new, exploring *** living.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 4:22 AM UTC
there's this girl, her name is felicia,
and she is not afraid to love with all she might,
to fall over and over again,
to get hurt and to be misunderstood,
to be pushed away by the circumstances she is not aware.
i tell her she is stupid, wasting her time, and that she deserves better;
but still the only time she cries is because he cries.
there's this guy, his name is derio,
tells me he knows nothing about love, or how to win a girl heart,
but i witness him giving his drink to her,
pats her back after their group presentation,
shows me what he writes and how i notice he engraves
every single thing about her in words,
how he makes a playlist contains songs about her
and how she makes him feel.
there's this girl, her name is nadya,
her love is the love that is so pure and innocent,
that even when he is miles away she tells me she senses his presence.
she draws him paintings, consist of pastel colors, and i ask her why;
she says it brings calmness to every storm.
i will look up at her history chat, being a protective friend that i am;
and i notice how fast she responds,
showering him with the attention he never have.
there's this guy, his name is andre,
and the way he talks about her, i assure you,
even the star constellations will envy the spark in his eyes.
his wallpaper is green, and i joke a lot about it;
how it shows that he is a capitalist, how it looks like he just puke on it,
but he shrugs it all off; tells me it is her favorite color.
there's this girl, her name is clara,
never going anywhere without a book in her hand,
sometimes she will surprise me with midnight chats
contains her crying over a fictional character and how unfair the ending is,
she has this web-page where she writes the unsent letters
to every character she is in love with.
she has a personal blog where she makes each of them
another story, another ending.
there's this guy, his name is elliot,
a head division of an event i am contributed in,
and between the meetings that goes almost overnight,
he insists to walk her to the train station even if she never ask to.
he tells me it is not because he think she is weak and can't protect herself,
he says it is because she is precious.
and then there is me;
a witness,
a learner,
a note-taker,
of all kind of love they show,
of all kind of love they grow,
for sometimes it is easy to love
but hard to remember
how beautiful and endearing it is.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:01 AM UTC
She who came in my dream
Only in dreams are we still together
Everytime I woke up
And realized,
Reality is a trully nightmare
Maybe in another time,
Day,
world, or
a parallel world
We are still together
She's the reason why I have to protect my history
.....
Nadya
Sep 15, 2024
Sep 15, 2024 at 5:30 AM UTC