Yesterday I thought of you
And the yesterday before
It seems as if my yesterdays
Are full of nothing more.
It is not only yesterdays
of which you’ve entered in
For tomorrow is soon to come
Where more thoughts of you begin
to never end, dissolve or disappear.
This is my beautiful paradox.
My prison without keys
My evening without the sun
My heart without memory
For you are always there.
SB
I tried talking but somehow couldn’t
I waited but it was not worthwhile.
How can I make you a moment,
and disappear forever
You stay and exist as a glass,
beautiful and untouchable ,
Even In my house of touches.
I am not the winter that dies,
Not the summer that is unbearable,
I am the moon,
I work on the tides.
Shall we dive once?
As you promised.
I need you in waves,
To drift wherever you want.
Just once again.
Yesterday I thought of you
And the yesterday before
It seems as if my yesterdays
Are full of nothing more.
It is not only yesterdays
Of which you've entered in
For tomorrow is soon to come
Where more thoughts of you begin
to never end, dissolve or disappear.
Your presence,
Is a dance without a hymn,
A ballad without a bend,
a winter without an end:
where I curl up by the fogged glasses
to forget the warmth, sun offered me once.
The bright of your eyes are the shy autumn and mysterious fall.
Your absence,
Is a sigh without despair,
A rain without the air,
A summer with ominous ends:
My smile sometimes pretends.
For time becomes a path,
and journey is measure in memories.
I become a monk and a thief,
looking for peace, settling for grief.
The city lights of November,
after walking you home —
I will remember them,
As much as I’d like to forget.
It never stopped raining,
Never.
To write about you,
Is it to dream about a song.
The humming of your voice
Is a symphony sometimes.
Do you see my heart dancing
In all the flames you set within me?
Do you feel the warmth that brews
within me, as the echo of your voice
slithers into my soul.
If you are the music,
then teach me to dance,
alone, unapologetically, forever.
Just once.
Like the waters in Greece,
blue, succulent , tapered into viscous curves
stay now, don’t leave.
This sigh reinvents itself more warmly,
sensing your departure.
Let me dream of it as you disappear,
The bed with white linen reminding us
of our flesh embellishing our existence.
A touch is what remains etched on my eyes.
Somehow now unseen, untouched.
What would the yellow kiss of sunlight greet?
A smile made of dreams?
Or dreams devoured off smiles.
The plants exhale hues of tamarind,
warm green tea succors the seperation,
In my wake,
I am next to a bottle of our emptiness.
I should have drowned when you stared me last night.
Writings to Heaven 