Saturday 30 November 2013


I've been standing here for some time now, watching lights fasting by, trying to count the shadows and getting everything wrong in the end.
I've been here for so long, singing for deaf ears that I no longer care: that they never look passed my broken strings, that I've been believing in broken love all along, that my fingers are freezing, that winter is here... Winter has come.
I've been here for so long, saw so many that my eyes must have turned blind from all the fights and broken glasses, the screams and bad words escaping bleeding lips. But somehow I still see the lights - pure globes of incandescent passion, warmth passing from finger to finger, from palm to palm, from body to body... Love burning as bright as the sun on the sky.
I've been here for so long that my throat is all dry, leaving me with only the humming. And I turned into a bird, accompanied by broken strings of a black guitar. The song I'm singing for deaf ears is the story that I must not forget, the only thing that really belongs to me: the story of a broken shard.
And winter is here and my fingers feel numb, my breath has turned into white vapors, drawing lines where the sheet of paper was white and erasing words where everything seemed to go wrong.
And night is swallowing everything, making me tremble in the darkness of the corner that hides me. Where do I go? Where do I go from here on? Can I really leave behind my broken strings? Can I really remember walking when I've been standing for such a long time?
And I look ahead of me: there's no you.
Winter is out, so standing right here will be the right thing to do...
Maybe, just maybe you'll take me with you this time...

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