beauty, creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Yesterday

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.

creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Adieu

Its the numbing
the air that recedes one’s skin,
a void brews out of nothingness :
when someone exits unannounced
into the last ounce of warmth
remaining in this world.

What else can you add to sadness
to make it reasonable?
to make it decipherable?
to make it bearable?

there are no exits
in this existence,
we are bound
by remembrance
and forgetfullness,
the twin sisters
playing in the night and day.

creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, fiction and poetry, Life, Poems, Poetry, Writings

Stare

you are most beautiful
when you sleep–
when the coffee-toned notes of your skin
brew, a silent language

while your perfect lips are too tired to doubt my eyes
now, the dark mist of your breath
trickles down my neck
I wait,
I stare at you
unwaveringly.

outside there is a trail of rain,
and the wind
in the willow cage
whispers

as if it dares to tell
the moon and
all the listening night
that this silverlight should not
touch you, in front of me.

creative-writing, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry

Again

What’s the opposite of an echo?
Lay your head on my chest,
Under this waxy paper moon and
Tell me what stories hide
In the constellations of your freckles.

Let my fingertips trace over
The epics of our young untameable souls.
Some spines though cracked,
And some pages though torn– but you,
You always remember
Which are my favourites.

“Have we done this before?“
“Tracing ourselves in one another?”
“Yes”, you say
and that mellow smile of yours brews
a breeze smelling of thousand dreams,
I collapse into them. Slowly, again.

creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Imagine

Thirst is a dryness that floats from the throat : a snow that burns everything like a voiceless cold fire, a pure river polluted with a meaningless existence,a reality that drinks bottles of dreams without regret,a death caressed ominously with warm hands,a shadow unloved in the brightest sunlights.

It is a blessing and it is a curse.
It is just a human sometimes,

too much loved.