type of wrong

center of me burns

begging for water

a hurricane to wash over

destroy and resurrect

submerge this fire

let if sizzle

like the sun does

at dusk

and when it's drowned

when it stops breathing

take your hands

and let it go

it goes and goes and goes

falling liquidly

drowning 

while the universe reverses

and planets, stars

they all align

and it floats through space

the big blue

they said it's darkness

that shines

but they've never seen

so much light

and as it travels

submerged

it loses track

of all that matters

there's the fire

sparkling

twisting

underwater

take my fire

and kill it, I asked.

don't give it wilderness

for it expands

consuming me.

in my veins

what does it feel like to love you - have your fingertips brushing against my skin: ocean of music notes washing away all sound

what does it feel like to have you staring from within the darkness: strip me down of this crushing fear and never be able to look away

what does it feel like to breathe you in and breathe you out: intoxicate my soul with you

and you whirl, whirl your way down into me

poisonous smoke

illusion of a promised redemption

I walk to you as if you're open doors of the church

when you're nothing but a curtain dancing in the wind

masking darkness

I walk to you stripped of all of me,

holding onto my soul

and willingly giving it away while singing 'hallelujah'

my soul from my hand into yours

from my chest into yours

as you gulp it down as if holy water

and as I am emptied of myself

you pour yourself into me, 

wickedly 

your tongue burns - thousands whips

perversely scribbling onto me

an earthly name

biting teeth battle for my flesh

my blood drop by drop

blossoms onto my skin

I use daggers

and carve out constellations

my entire universe

you run deeper, faster

than I can chase

through my veins

poison

inside my veins

I cannot scratch you out

come out, undone

I too break 

into shadows

black hole

of space continuum

swallows me

a shell.

him

seek me through the grass

and adorn me with light

and silvery kisses.

i am long asleep

laying on my bed

rocked by a sea of dreams

and arms

and arms

and arms

and i dream of you

of you and you

and nothing else but you.

the road is long

and there's no flower

and no sun

to keep me breathing

while i follow you 

across the sea

across the universe

across all stars...

your footsteps are too big

for my worn out shoes

and i fear

your shadow is too dense

for me to breathe

through its smoke

the wind is singing

a love song

all flowers bending

in my dream where you

oh you

you smile so dearly

your back

oh your back

is now turned on me

i run

like crashing waves

and fall 

into your distance...

and the wind is whispering

to the moon

and the muffled sun

is suffering

i run

like yellow on crops

in summer

like green on forests

in spring

like shadows on snow

in winter

the wind withers me

like leaves on a tree

in autumn

across the water

resting your feet

into the icy coldness

of a creek

you are

oh you are

alone 

in darkness bathed

spears of sunshine

not piercing

you being alive

or dead

or immortal

or alone

crestfallen

shadow, 

lingering burden 

no longer do you follow

your master

shoes,

cannon balls

no longer do you thwart

his walk

and where do i belong

in all of these

am i the shoes

in his feet

his shadow

on his back

his sun

on the sky

his moon

in the lake

the flow of

consciousness

at the back of the mind

his smile 

lonely star of night

on obsidian 

unwoven canopy

no

i lain my hair

in dirt

i am the roots

of all dreams

overflowing sea

of burning suns

that do not die

nor live

but exist 

like lies

of white yarn

i do not hurt

i keep him 

all together

sea with sea 

crash together

in a pond

i pour myself

until there's nothing left

my heart

the fog

and all fireflies

burning like

ten thousand suns

i am a harbor.

My pretty dream

Inside my frustrated and overworked heart, I keep this dream hidden from the eyes of the world. I had it prettily wrapped in pink paper, a red ribbon keeping it all together while the walls of my heart keep resisting under a siege of waves of blades that cut in deep flesh with their dull edges, cracking open wounds that I'm still waiting to transform into ugly scars. But they keep bleeding while I stuff that pretty dream under ruins of ancient remains of a soul that might have lived other lives as well.

I keep no more hope for me. For this world stripped me of all that was pretty and shamed me with my own reflection, forcing me to crawl into the darkness I so hated. And like you peel off a fruit to reach its core in search of its sweetness, I'm peeling my own mind of fears and try to reach the core of it and save whatever is there left to be saved.

And while my walls crack open to reveal my stitched up skeleton, I rush upwards the spiral stairs, scratching my soles in my rush to reach my pretty dream. Now, my sole reason to hang on is this tiny, pink package, to keep its flame burning alive even in the darkest abyss.

My dream is frail. It was born before term and so I know it cannot breathe on its own completely. But as I keep it in my arms and close to my body I somehow hope or maybe wish for it to grow, rip off the pink paper and fly to better skies.

My frail dream sleeps most of the time. 

My dream... will never live on to come true, that I know. And yet, a tiny piece of me looks at it with hopeful eyes while I touch its smoky figure with hungry fingers that seem to have a mind of their own.

My dream, darling dream, when I call out to your murderers to stand for trial, I will be the only one to raise on two and bow down in front of you. And I know you won't see me, for you'll be long gone, but I'll keep remembering the darkness of the guilt.

My dream, darling dream to be one day deeply loved by a man who smiles only at me, showing dimples of kindness and his soul in his eyes, a man like a shelter against all storms... I know you'll die.

It's you

But you got to know this: my taciturn self is only screaming in psychotic struggles to escape you and your eyes. Yes, this is my confession of madness, my admission into a personal Hell I will never escape from... because you're there, always there, always there, presence of spirit and flesh, my utmost thirst, my lone crave for dangerous, maniac like company. It's you, you, you and you only. It's you and...

Your moves are fluid and your fingers seem to be chains of flying butterflies, keeping me trapped in this insanity, the forever darkness of my own mind.

Your scent is like an eternal flame burning the floor when I just want to lie down and shut down all these machines inside of me forever. Forever... but your flame keeps me moving, keeps me dancing, dangling my chains after me.

Your eyes looking away from me are more than any punishment Heaven could have bestowed on me for being born in this skin, trapped in this meat case. If there's no you, there can't be any other, so I'll struggle with all these bones and rip them to pieces if I have to... just don't look away.

And then your lips - a sweet smelling rose in full bloom is a decaying corpse. Full and with the corners always twirled in one or another form of mocking smile is carnage, silent torment for the weaklings like me that cannot touch you, cannot approach you, that can only dream of your darkness scattered in the wind. And sweet and poisonous and filled with thorns are they. But that can't keep me away from deliriously wishing to sink my teeth in your bottom lip and suck its death into me. Release me from my chains...

Your touch - whips and scratches against my bruised skin. And yet I let you continue your way down my hand, 'cause I know the pain can be erased only with pain and that there's no such thing as mercy in our little dark corner where only the devil can creep in without feeling insulted by the profanity of our blind Oblivion. 

You make no sense with your sweet lies and we both know your time is limited. So lay me down on sheets of solitude, strip me of all inhibition and look at me and only at me, see the soul screaming in me, see the claws scratching my throat in front of your every day betrayal, confide into my reverse flowing tears and trust they would never tell on you. And we'd finally be together.

Silence is overflowing from your shyness and I can only sharpen my claws on the smile in your eyes. Black blood flows through our veins and yet you do not see it - you'll never see it. The more you approach me, the more my chains of butterflies strangle me, cover me in soft and silky dust - you're the demon of my own insanity and you've come to take me, now I know.

But before we go anywhere, let me have that soft kiss, 'cause there ain't nobody in this maze to love you like I do.

With love, a friend...

You might not remember this part of you, you might not want to acknowledge your past fragility. But hey! here I am or better said, here I was all this time. You might be living your dream somewhere in this big world or you might be wounded to death, hiding under layers of silence as you gave up on all humanity. Or you might have accepted that being plain is not bad at all and forgot all about our messy past and the pieces of your once broken heart.

Wherever you are, whatever you do, whomever you're with when you read this, just in case you come across this one day, I want to share with you this life philosophy that's stuck in my head for now (I'm putting it down 'cause I know I will forget it as soon as I go to bed):

1. Be someone's friend - befriend someone and be his or her friend even after midnight. Don't judge, don't hold a grudge, don't frown, don't wish they didn't exist. Help them if you can, be their best friend, give them courage, give them strength even if one day they could walk away. Just be their friend over a cup of tea, over the phone, in writing. Bear them in mind and heart and show them warmth. People are and will be people - always in need of company, always in need of warmth. Give a lil' of your light to a blind person and you'll walk around with a lighter heart.
2. Pet a dog or a cat. It soothes the heart, it makes you feel loved even for a little while. Animals don't hate, they don't hold grudges and are grateful for every touch, for every word, for every minute you give them.
3. Love. With all your heart, with all your soul. I know you've been brokenhearted before, I know it hurts when he leaves. But even so, love with all your might, give your best, be caring and bright, be supportive and attentive to the other's needs, show appreciation and respect. I doubt it will be left unrewarded. And even if it is, later on, when you'll be really old and cranky, you won't regret it. You'd have made someone feel special and loved even for a little while. It won't matter you weren't considered good enough, that you weren't the one, that you weren't perfect - 'cause even for a lil' while, you have made someone happy.
4. Sing along with your favourite songs. It doesn't matter you don't have a good voice or that you're making a total fool out of you. It doesn't matter you don't know the lyrics or the language. Hum along, dance with the beat, feel the music pour through all your pores, through your cells.
5. Don't be afraid of who you are, of what you think, of what you like. Life's too short for that!
6. Don't hurt others just for the sake of being a voice. In the end, it won't matter if you're remembered through the centuries if you'd be regretting it all your life or feel guilty. It's not worth the burden, trust me.
7. Don't hold grudges. Let it go, let it go, just let it go. If you stop caring about the past, the future will be easier to see and build. If they did you wrong, just forget it. If they hurt you in ways no one can understand your aching scars, if they left you bleeding without an explanation - it's alright. It's just fine. They went their way, you got your own path. And when your paths will cross again, there will be enough space  for "Hello.".
8. Be a good daughter even when your mom is no longer what you recalled her to be. Be supportive of her, be there with a nice word, be there to remind her that she'll never be alone and that no matter what, she has you.
9. Be a good mother. Be the mother your mother was: your children's best friend, their playmate, their protector, their teacher, their guiding light. Be attentive to their needs, to their fears, to their life philosophy. Don't be afraid to share your past with them, don't be afraid to scold them gently, don't be afraid of letting them be free in world where there they will be judged according to appearance, wealth, gadgets or what else. Their happiness is yours.
10. Be a good wife. Be a good life partner. Be supportive of his dreams, support him on his way, be there when he needs you, be his comforting silence, be his painkiller when he's in terrible pain. Listen well and think twice before saying something that you might regret later. Remember what you promised to yourself when you were younger and never let the other one behind in pain or anger. Talk your problems out, figure a way together, don't be silly and stubborn when it's not the case. Don't cause unnecessary pain to your partner. Don't be selfish - be selfless. And if he hurts you, be sincere and tell him. If he steps on your heart, try to talk things out. If it just doesn't work, part as friends. Don't cause unnecessary pain one to another. And don't be afraid of telling him you love him - you never know what can happen by the end of the day. Don't be just his partner and lover. Be his friend.

Ten rules for an easier  life - no, scratch that, rules for a happier life! And not rules, but just reminders on how to be a better person, on how to live with no regrets, on how to be everything you once promised yourself you'd be one day: a better human, a better person, a better you.

And if you are all these out there, then I am happy to have lived through the pain and misery, through the hardship and broken hearts. If you're leading a life like you dreamt, then I regret nothing and I am genuinely happy for you and those around you.

But don't forget the most important rule of them all, the golden one if I may say so: be yourself no matter what. The bright person your friends saw, the romantic one, the childish one, the silly one. Don't let the darkness you fear consume your bright light! You are the sun of your own universe! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

With love,

A Friend from the Past

Tints

I've been ill for quite some time now. Cold and trembling, merely breathing, dragging my feet across the floor only to reach the limit of my squared life and turn around just to make the same journey backwards. I should know that there's no room for giving up... not now when I came so close to grabbing it - that ray of light silently knocking at my window each day at the same hour.

When it first appeared, it scared the shit out of me to be sincere. It was all yellowish with tints of orange and red - a whole rainbow caught in a droplet of light! And the way the glass warmed up my cold, sweaty forehead... Nothing was the same afterwards! I came back day after day, dragging my legs for hours just to see that for a couple of seconds.

But then the clouds came, my illness made me feel cold and too tired all of a sudden to even open my head. And so I remained pinned in my suffering, angrily building forts of darkness to prepare myself for what seemed to watch over me with every second that passed by - Death. 

And then you came along and nothing was the same anymore. You brought light where darkness had nested, you planted flowers where the ground was dead and dried and watered them with your tears, giving them nothing but lullabies and gentle smiles. And you held my hand when I was all gray and cold, stony figure laying on a bed of fresh and poisonous ivy. You weren't scared of my dirty looks, my sharp tongue or of me trying to escape your gentle grip. You remained despite my cursing and begging. You stayed still and just hushed me back to sleep when the rain would force my darkness out. You - you were my light, my hope, my ultimate colour. With you by my side I could have coloured the entire world and there would have still remained enough paint to glue my skin back to my flesh and my bones all back together.

You - you were my salvation. For when I was gray, you were red, when I was just about to give in to my darkness, you brightened up my fear with tints of pink and when I was this close to just give up on everything, you held me next your golden heart. And nothing was the same...

And now you're down, running out of light and colour, holding tightly onto me, hoping for that small ray of light at the window. So I'll be your guiding hand, your light, your colour. I'll paint your life in bright colours and just a patch of blue of my own, for you gave up on yourself just to bring me back to life. You helped me find my colour when everything was hopeless - you gave me my blue. So now, when you're running out of your brightest colours, allow me to stay by your side and make the same journey back and forth until you finally gain your faith back.

I love you, don't you ever forget that...

Realization

It was a normal Sunday and I was normally browsing around the Internet, looking for some way to entertain myself. Only that with the corner of my eye, I spotted your digital picture resting on the desk.

I have to admit that I stared at it for quite a while. Yeah, embarrassing, I know, I know. But I didn't knew what else to do since my hands had stopped and were just resting on my knees. And where else could have I looked? The other way? Out the window? At the screen displaying thousands of pictures in front of me? Could have I looked anywhere else when you were there, when your smile was there, present like this heart that beats inside my chest?

No.

So I took my time to analyze your face, the shape of it, the traits, the small spots from an old acne burst, the eyes, the bridge of the nose that's a little bulbous towards the tip, the lips - oh, so kissable lips!, all pink and soft, the stubborn chin. And I wondered: "Why do I like/ kind of love him anyway?". Answer? There's no real answer that wouldn't sound like a lie or a cheesy, stupid thing a girl in love would say. Maybe I like you because you're so fluffy, that you're stubborn and snap easily. Or maybe it's because when you smile you show around 24 teeth... or maybe it's because you have cute ears. Or maybe it's the lips that make me smile when I think of you. It couldn't be your strange personality, your multi-talented hands or the over-confident attitude you make me put up with every single day, even in my dreams. 

People told me to stop dreaming - you're not real. And yet there you are, flesh and bones, heart and blood, smiles and laughter, frowns and glares - you're there.

People told me that my love is admirable. But they couldn't be more wrong. I do love you. I love you from the bottom of my heart even though I do not say it the way you're supposed to hear it. I love you so much that if love was fuel, I'd be able to go around the world and never run out of it. I love you so freakin' much that it kind of hurts at times when I realize just how silly I am when the night comes... But they are all wrong, my love ain't admirable at all. It's kind of an old cliché as I don't really know what to do with my love, actually. I could fuel some other fire, I could pretend to love some other guy and secretly think of you. I could watch you closely and never approach you. It's the bad kind of love, the poisonous one, the one it incapable of turning into hate and is everlasting. It's the one you meet only in fairytales... My love is scary.

Someone told me never give up on what I am and what I hold dear. Again, a cliché wish of them to be like me, of them to live with what I feel. But if they knew, if they could feel it even for a second, they would see how close to bursting my heart is, how difficult is to actually breathe, knowing you won't be really there... ever. Not ever.

But a dreamer lives for her dreams, even when they pull her underwater. I am drowning each day and I never stopped to actually wonder if it's worth keeping a love like the one I have for you. You'll never hear me, never will you lay your eyes on the unappealing me. This is the realization that made me fight the high waters invading my lungs, that made me actually wish for the shore to be closer to my tired hands. Dear, I'm tired of swimming and I don't want to drown. I'm tired of gulping salty water, of fearing what circles me. I'm tired of fighting with the tide, with the currents and the waves. But then again, I won't go down without a fight! I will not drown in this... this... this love! For if I do close my eyes, you're there. And once you're around, I will never ever be able to leave your imaginary side.

I don't want to be crazy.

I swear it was a normal Sunday and that I was normally staring at your photo.

But you're so far away and permanently surrounded by people that care for you, that shower you with their love for you, for what you are and what you mean that it's actually kind of painful for me to watch. So, since my love is no longer useful (was it ever, useful?) I'd like to have it back now, please. Give me back my heart and all my dreams, 'cause I think I have a jar of broken dreams hidden somewhere under the bed and this one will act like seal. And I will never ever talk about you again, never ever remember you, never ever trust this beating heart of mine that seems to be malfunctioning...

It was a normal Sunday when the normal realization was born in my mind: it's time to let you go 'cause you have no use of me anymore. You've got your friends, you've got millions of others willing to give their hearts to you. I don't want to be a bleeding heart in the crowd. So today, I take my heart back to mend it, to make it work in sync with the brain. 

It was a normal Sunday and I was dreaming of running away with your love, lock myself in a rocket and fly to the moon, never to return...

Prince Charming

A girl wait for one thing her whole life: Prince Charming to come and sweep them off their feet and hop them on the back on their white horse/Ferarri. So, she's currently look for...

A man strong as ten, a man to fight wind and rain, a man to come as shelter when all the others have proved to be just plastic and fake.
A man who would hold her hand 'cause kissing in the street at the first date is a no-no, even if she wishes for it with her whole body.
A man who would buy her flowers every single day until she gets an allergy, 'cause that's the trend she saw in movies: good guys buy flowers, bad boys steal the virginity.
A man that wouldn't tease her for talking gibberish when excited or when sleepy, a man that wouldn't laugh at her messed hair style and forever hold her hands for the world to see how lucky she is.
A man with a kind heart and a wide opened wallet, ready to buy her ice-cream in the middle of the night and whatnot since she's the princess of his life and she deserves the best or whatever her hearts wishes for.
A man that would totally ditch his friends and his beer and go running to her side every time the phone rings, just because she saw an itsy-bitsy tiny spider in the bathroom while she was taking a poop.
A man that would totally look like David Beckham whenever he'd take off his shirt (wearing t-shirts is too mainstream for her) and still blush, be unconvinced that he's a complete hunk.

A man that would build her the dream house and never make her lift a finger, a man that would cook, clean, wash dishes, take the dog for a walk, take in all her crap, listen to her favourite band, paint her nails, brush her hair, buy her tampons, making sure he always put the toilet seat down after peeing 'cause the princess might get hurt otherwise, always compliment her over her fashion sense, accept pink stuff around just because it's her favourite colour.

etc.

Well, let me tell you something, princess: you're probably going to wait forever and a day and totally miss out the perfect guy!

I would totally love a guy who would kiss me during the first date and make me feel butterflies even though I'd probably get mad/ turn bright red/ throw a tantrum/ make a scene or kiss him back.

I wouldn't want a guy to bring me flowers every single fucking day because I'd probably get sick of them and my reaction will slowly grow to be just "Meh, flowers..." instead of "You brought me flowers! How sweet of you!".

I'd appreciate a good contradicting-argument with him and would totally fall even more for him if he'd be a complete tease, instead of sugar coating everything I do and holding my hand even when I'm sweaty and feel like he shouldn't touch me.

A normal guy would be the best, to know me, to know when to ignore me, to know when to give me space. A normal guy that would buy me presents just for my birthday, 'cause we both know money don't grow on trees. A man with a golden heart hid underneath a bad boy's teasing.

I'd love a cry-baby, 'cause I'd know it's because he's not iron-made and just humanly giving in to the pressure. 

I'd love a total goof-ball, 'cause he'd know how to make me laugh when it's raining outside and I didn't brought an umbrella.

And above anything, I'd appreciate a guy that would be the totally opposite from me and yet still echo a tiny bit of me when he's asleep, a guy that's himself in everything he does and says, a guy that has his moments of silence and is a complete bully when I talk gibberish because I just saw my favourite band live, a man that would make me argue with him over putting down the toilet seat because it's the small things that really matter, a man that would be so bad with pastel colours that we'd have to call our parents over to help us paint the walls, a man that would hate pink just as much as I do, a man that would insist on taking the dog out together because he'd get bored, a man that would know how to say "I'm in love with you." when the right time comes...

I don't look for the perfect man or anything like Prince Charming 'cause I know that when the right person will appear, I'd be in love with every single flaw he has, as well as appreciate that's he's just... there, next to me, holding my hand.

So, princess, how about my Prince Charming type? Doesn't he sound more real than yours?

Will You Be Alright?

You take a jar - a random one and you stare at it. The emptiness in between the glass walls frightens you at first 'cause you see no end to it. And it's like an invisible Vortex, pulling your soul out for an out-of-body experience you never asked for.

And so, with every second that passes, you get smaller and smaller, Alice in Wonderland size and you fall. Glass forms a thick and hard bed for you to land on. And suddenly you see lights and all kinds of wonders that you were to blind to see before.

It was a small jar, wasn't it? That's what you thought. That's why you picked it up in the first place. You were intrigued by it's roundness and perfect shape, the way it would close and trap in whatever you put in there. Only that it's you inside there and there's no escape from it...

"Will you be alright?" A voice echoed through the air, making you look around you with frightened eyes. But there's nothing but warmth. And a summer day is being shown to you - the very first one when you made your first mud cake, adorning with yellow and white wild flowers that used to fill the park behind your house. A younger version of you is mesmerized by the copy of reality she made. "I'm going to be a Chef!" But the rain came and your cake melted into a dark coloured and ugly mud pool.

"Will you be alright?" A softer voice asked again as you caught the smell of ice and cold. Ice-skating was always fun, especially when you'd get to spin around without landing on your back or scratching your knees. You used to feel so safe and secure while walking on the ice. But one winter you slipped down the ice and scared as you were, you didn't go to the doctor and handled the throbbing pain in your ankle with tears and tantrums.

"Will you be alright?" This one grabbed you by the wrist, spinning you around. You in classes, you being perfect as you usually were. You were great back then, you can clearly see it in a mirrored reflection of a past you almost forgot. Yes, you were the best and always striking for more. More, more, more - more is better. And then you fell. An inexplicable feeling of falling forever, lower and lower, passing the ground level... and you were no longer the best, the envied one, the respected one. You were just... normal.

"Will you be alright?" A voice like the rustle of pages shook you yet into another mirrored experience. Your first essay. Your first story and your first challenge. You knew then, just like you know now, that it was one of the best feelings in the entire world: having something written by you, from your own head, put down on paper and admired like some sort of expensive and rare China porcelain. But school was out and you had grades to worry for, where to put that your favourite pair of jeans had a huge hole in the knee...

"Will you be alright?" This voice was sweeter than all the others, opening the door to an exited you pointing at a strange, black thing. Your first encounter with a piano. And it wasn't even one to be used, but one in a museum. "I'm going to be a great pianist!" You were delighted, enchanted by all the great composers that left behind sweet tunes, powerful tunes, melodies that were telling you stories never heard before. But then your doctor said you shouldn't force your hands too much since you have small hands and the fingers can't cover the keyboard lightly. And money were another problem... and so the piano lessons ended before you could even understand the keys on the keyboard.

"Will you be alright?"

"Will you be alright?"

"Will you be alright?"

So many voices, so many concerns, so many mirrors breaking in front of you in the jar you thought it was empty. But you couldn't have been more wrong - for it was full with the ghosts of the past you, with so many abandoned dreams that were born to stand tall and shine brightly over the world only to be forgotten in the end. 

And there you are, surrounded by the ghosts of your past self, all looking gloomy and gray, flickering lights that were burning down their last supply of energy. And that only to take a second look at the present you, the you who are so lost from your original self that you were overtaken by fear.

"Will you be alright without me by your side?"

"Will you be alright crying by yourself, without me giving a glimpse on your future self?"

"Will you really be alright without me helping you stand up in moments of fright and pain?"

"Will be alright without any hope left for tomorrow?"

And that's when you knew it. You new they weren't any kind of dreams, but your dreams, expensive dreams, dreams made of pure sunlight and ice flowers, dreams that made you smile like a fool, dreams that made you challenge the world only to prove they were wrong to label you as 'OUT OF ORDER'.

All those dreams that made you grow up beautifully, at peace with yourself even though a little shy and maybe not that out going as the rest, but that kept you safe and sound even during the darkest thunder storms.

"Will you be alright?"

A new voice. One you didn't recognize at first for it was coming from the outside the jar, from inside the invisible Vortex.

"Will you be alright after leaving my side?" It continued and you knew that it was worrying for the pale replicas of you. After all, it was the future you. "Will be alright with finding another path to me? Will you be alright with returning to my side a little later, after I finish growing up and have my own kids? Will be alright with returning then and staying by their side?"

And so they faded, died away like summer into the autumnal wind.

A jar of dreams was what you kept hidden from the world, packed under your bed without allowing them to shine brightly. A jar of broken dreams was what you were about to desert into the trash bin. A jar with so many shards of yourself, that someone could have cloned you and you would have ended up dying in a dull and horrid present.

So, keep it safe, 'cause they help your hands even when they were fading away, 'cause they felt sorry for leaving you even when they knew they were worn out and lightless to show you the right path.

Keep them close for those who have yet to hear about all their funny adventures, about the rain soon stopped and you made yet another mud cake, about the ankle that didn't hurt that much and the ice that wasn't a real enemy in the end, about the piano sound you continued to adore from afar, about how the words were your biggest pride. 

Keep it safe for the ones that are to come - your jar of broken dreams and untold stories.

I Don't Know Either

Maybe it's because I'm growing up or maybe it's because I changed for the past year so much that I barely recognize myself. But lately I've found myself thinking of a future I presently can't actually see. It's somewhere far, far away from me. But still, I like to dream of it from time to time. It keeps me motivated.

And so I got to make a list of all the things I'd like my life partner to have. The result? I'd like him to be a doctor (and not because I'm obsessed with Derek Shepherd of Grey's Anatomy). Just... at first, I'd like to have him by my side because I'm that type of person that hurts herself even when opening a bottle of water and I'd like to have someone to put a bandage over my scratched knees, to kiss my bruised fingers, to fuss over a small cut.

And then, when we'd have kids, I would stop being a kid myself and he would be able to figure out why the baby is screaming and can't sleep, why his tummy hurts and he could make him or her better. And I wouldn't cry, there wouldn't be sleepless nights by a crib.

I'm selfish, I know, but I would be willing to wait for him until he'd be great on his own: a great doctor or a great surgeon. A great person by my side. I would just to satisfy my own selfish desire... 

 And this person on the left - this wonderful person that shines as bright as the moon does during a starless night, this person is currently the one I like to think of as my better half. He's a man born on 16th of October, sharing his birthday with me. Three things differentiate us: the gender, the years we were born in and the different paths we walk on.

This man is the only one that can make me smile even when I cry bitter tears. When I hear his voice, when I see his smile, it's like everything disappears and the wrong turns right.

And as selfish as I am, I like to think that he's my soulmate. He's the one I will always sustain, no matter the miles in between or the language barrier or anything else. I won't matter if he's married and has kids - I will support him and show him the respect I wish I had in this life of mine.

Childish, isn't it? 

Stupid, right?

Is it really impossible for someone to feel the way I feel? 'Cause when I look at his picture, when I hear his songs, when I watch his interviews, I just know everything is alright and just like he made it and his light turned brighter than any other star, I will be just fine no matter where I'll end up in this life.

It's not love, 'cause I don't think I know how to love yet. It's not admiration either, because I don't wish to be there, in his place. Is something in between those and some more. Something the words cannot contain, cannot explain. Is something... that can only be felt.

It's funny when I think of myself old and smelly, cranky and blind, but still smiling brightly when hearing his old songs. I wish - if there really is a link between us we cannot see or feel yet - there was a way I could hear from him even after he leaves the stage those younger than him. Just knowing him alright and happy, I think I will be able to put up with all the pills we all end up taking when old.

Two dreams, two ideal types, two men that have small chances to ever be by my side.

Two different me.

This is all in my head and heart.

But only future will give me an answer, so I'll wait for a reply from God, fate, destiny, future or whoever can tell me what awaits ahead...

The Cemetery of My Soul

Life? The dust falling over you into a rain of solid crystal clear tears.

Dreaming? Chimerical calling into a mad game, built from forever changing bricks.

Today I spent my time on the top of the last wall that keeps me locked inside here. It's a thick wall, built of stone that was eroded by the dirty waters that keep on washing it, a wall made to protect me, to keep me safe,away from the world of the deceiving fog. I never doubted its loyalty, never intended to cross it or bring it down.

Inside here, in my little box, the music can be heard quite clear. It's a background sound, clear and quiet, sweet and warm, but sad and distant at the same time.

It's difficult to get in here. And the exit... it's a path going miles towards the West, bathed by the sun and so large that a whole army could walk on it and they'd still never reach its edges; its the resting place of all those who have left. A cemetery with thick, tall memorial stones, wooden, stony, thick marble memorial stones. And silence rules over them all.

But sometimes, sometimes a rumble can be heard. It makes you cringe and cry, feel lonely and loved at the same time. It makes you go crazy with its heavy perfume of lilies. And in the old, abandoned church, the owls watch over the altar - my place to hide when I'm scared or what to cry.

And today I'm once again alone. He left with a warm smile, with a touch filled with regret, leaving behind only a shadow that died away with the light of the sun. And there, a new memorial stone appeared, a glorious keeper of white marble on which you can read: "I want to pave your way with a million of shooting stars..."

Fallen. Shaken. Woken up and once again hurt. Hidden and tear-stained. Cheerful and loving. I've been all of these. And for what? For who? What's the meaning of having so many divine dreams?! Human is only the insensate ground I step on and maybe the rain that seeds empty promises in the wind. They, all of those who have been here have lost this quality once they disappeared like broken ideals.

I hate doing this and yet, here I am once again, doing it all over again. To whom do I belong? What can I do next?

I let them in, I'm happy when they're around. I never say a word though about their ending that I know oh, so well. And when the moment finally comes, I turn to stone and stay silent like them. I keep quiet and I cry bloody tears. And then I perish. I walk beside them, walking down on long forgotten paths, trodden by hurt souls, scarred by all the blood shed during lost battles.

And I have one single question:

"Oh Lord, why do I torment myself with the same old death only to face resurrection once again?!"

-- old post written back in 2011, translated today, 4th of August 2013

Haven

In this world where rain falls continuously - I'm running.
In this world where clouds can be seen hanging heavily on what used to be once a clear, blue sky - I fear.
In this world where people are crying - I hide.
In this world where hope has been forgotten - I dream.
This world, this planet, the sky, the water, the flowers, the bees, the soil, the rocks, the mountains and the meadows - they're all part of me. I hold them in, deeply buried in a heart that was rejected and stepped on countless times. For I am the bird that sings at the window of your eyes, I am the one who will stand still in a crowd that continues to move.
There's a lot of gray - I'm a rosy blue.
There's a lot of sorrow - I will always hold a smile just for you.
Call me - I won't run from you.
Hold me - I will accept your touch.
Cast me away - I won't be broken.

You and I - we're an old, unwritten story. So let the distance between us be the pages and the numbers be the ink for our ongoing novel. Let the crowd be the main character; we'll take the second lead. Let the rain stain the pages and it will be more personal. Let us be written line by line, word by word, emotion by emotion. Let us be described like Bonnie & Clyde of the present or Scarlett & Rhett of the century. Let us have minor part in our own love story. But most importantly, let us have a happy ending.
Are we running? And if so, are we running to each other? Won't we stop somewhere halfway through, ten minutes away from each other, totally missing the greatest love?
Are we aware of each other? Aren't we dreaming the American dream in which the other is faceless, tasteless, voiceless, colourless and merciless?
Are you dreaming of me? 'Cause I'm dreaming of you. You're the man in my noir dreams, the shadow in my darkness, the light during my days, the voice that sings me to sleep.
Are you waiting? 'Cause I've run all of my life, trying, struggling to find you.
Will you turn away from me?
Will you smile for me and only for me?
Will you give up on me and take another, a copy instead of the real?
Will you just refuse me?
But even it will be so, I won't be running away, I won't cry, I won't beg. I'll just... stay. Still. Around. Smiling. So that you can see that I am the friend you always had, the sibling you always wished for, the lover in your cold bed, the memory you'd want to put in a box and bury away for keep.

Hello, dear soulmate. 
I've been writing and wishing for you up till now. 
I'm me.
But who are you?