Monthly Archives: April 2015

To paint 

The contours of life
Painted in touch
Of hand subtle
Fine lines
Of historical traces
I beg you not
To discard your pen.

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To deserve 

If you deserve to feel this way
A criss-crossed boundary
A guard let down
An unattended post
I don’t know
Maybe you
Brought it on yourself?

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A pebble

You needed pictures. Constant pictures. Constant reminders of us. Everywhere. To show, to brag, to boast. Every move of ours needed to caught on film and showed to the world. At first I found it flattering and brave of you to showcase our love to everyone around. Then I understood.

It’s interesting when you realize you are a merely a prop in someone’s life. How foolish I was, thinking I was moving along with you while actually I was never even considered to be taken on your voyage. And that day when it struck me, when I saw the abandoned suitcase at the airport, well, it hit me hard. Damn hard. Because there I was thinking I was rock solid foundation yet you made me into a useless pebble and kicked me out of the way, just like that.

I don’t know what to feel. I burnt our pictures, if that even matters to you. I threw away the suitcase. But the pebble, the pebble I kept. Pebbles can be annoying. Just thought you should know that.
Just thought you should know…

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Printed like a memory
Carried like a weight
Mastered like a champion
Scared like a leaf
Embraced like a puppy
Kissed like a lover
Forgotten like no tomorrow
Remembered as if yesterday

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To write

My love,
There are few words left to say
And even fewer to write
Yet I have to try
To shed some light
If at least
To clarify the unclear
It was what it was
And became what it is
If regret were a color
I would paint the whole world
Make it all sober
If tears were gold
I would save each drop
In a lucky charm pot
But nothing of the sort exists
It was what it was
And we became what we are
For goodbye is now
An ending with no comma
With deepest sincerities
And all my love
– E.

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Mind fucked
My new favorite word
Or most hated
Haven’t quite decided yet.

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An elderly Italian man once told me to listen with the head and speak with the heart. ❤


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To die

Melancholic ecstasy
Infatuated agony
A cocaine party
Without a line
You sit
You wonder
This is not fine.

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To walk

To follow paths
Without destination
To tread confidently
Without hesitation
To catch one’s breath
Without reflection
To be okay
With satisfaction.

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To her

“Hello love
For you I have so many words.”

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