who would have thought
that i’d still wish for you
the way i did
a full earth’s cycle ago
May 17th, Always
I say I’m good with words,
but my words will never
be able to paint
the endless warmth
You bring
into my small heart.
what’s in a month
the first smile
a friendly hug
a shy reaching hand
a kiss.
what’s in a month?
a heavy breath
a tear
a walk at the park
a breakdown.
a warm heart
a poem,
pairs of eyes talking
pairs of tangled feet.
what’s in a month?
it’s you.
filling my heart
day by day,
with sun.
a little paper wish
i’m not sure if you were
the lighthouse
or me
but i know there was light –
and then there wasn’t.
a bit like birthday candles,
only darker –
but birthday candles,
we blow them for a reason.
a wish.
a purpose.
happy birthday.
i wish you’re happy, wherever you are.
13/03/2018
your eyes under the sun
make my eyes shine.
offering the light –
a quest,
to make them mine .
(writing happy stuff again – what a life)
inner screaming vol.1
some silences are deafening
in a way that makes your chest tremble
during sleepless nights and lightless days,
filled with countless what ifs and dying hope –
i miss her.
If you’d let me
If you’d let me,
I’d make a list of the things I see
and they remind me of you,
and I’d send you postcards with poems –
I’d get you flowers in colourful pots
for you to take care of,
and every Sunday I’d send you a picnic basket
– except for the times I’d bring it myself
If you’d let me,
I’d write mixtapes for you that you’d never listen to,
and I’d sing loudly in the car the songs that make me think of you –
I’d make you coffee and breakfast in the morning,
and I’d recite you pieces of my favourite books
until you’d shut me up by making desperate faces
If you’d let me
I’d be there for you, to listen about everything you’d want to say
I’d stroke your hair and boop your nose,
and I’d hold your hand and cuddle you in the dark,
and in the light
If you’d let me
I’d become anything, for you.
Only you didn’t,
So I became everything.
For myself.
dream terror
sometimes,
i talk to you
in my sleep –
it’s not alarming,
your presence is frequent
in my dreams,
and my subconscious longs
for your existence
it’s when i talk to you
when i’m awake,
that i am scared
the most –
and writing to you
does nothing
to dissolve
the terror.
#9
something is sitting on my chest this morning –
it won’t let me get up, and it makes my coffee hard to swallow –
i’m trying, but it’s heavy
and stuck above my stomach
it brings me foggy thoughts and
darkens my surroundings
is it the bedsheets? is it your ghost?
if i get rid of it, where does it go?
#8
sometimes when i wake up
i squeeze my eyes tightly,
and open them again –
as the truth of some dreams
is more violent
than the waking reality