I wonder how many people
in this city
live on the streets.
late at night
when silence blossoms like tumor on our lips
when even the crickets hesitate
I walk among the shadows
of their past and present.
every face on the sidewalk
looks back at me.
blank stares.
cautious hands.
tired hearts.
and oblivious souls.
I wonder how many people
will come back home
and write this down.
I wake up each day
with a promise
in my foolish heart,
for some love
from the days of past,
but this promise
never seems to last
for long,
and just like
the days before
this day is gone,
but with a little hope
for tomorrow
my star shines
out in the blue,
and I fall terribly easily
yet again
for you.
You get kicked in the heart by someone who’s aware of it or not, and you get sent alone into a room, and if you have a little bit of intellect, a little bit of talent and a lot of loneliness, you’ll probably make it.
– John Mayer
my heart has a place that is
never going to be filled.
you have that too.
and you will know it.
during your worst time,
and especially
during your best times
you will know
more than ever.
and we will together wait
and
wait
in that space.
that’s all we can do.
the world rolls;
every moment is different
and so are the ones
in houses,
on the streets,
sitting in the future,
singing in the fleets.
close your eyes, and
read the language
of your wandering mind.
the heart knows.
her
beauty and
wild
was way
beyond her
imagination.
the fresh smell
of a newly
laid mattress
on a perfectly assembled
bed frame roams
in the air
filling the room
with the virtuosity
of what only money
can buy.
a single glimpse
catches the painted
reflection of a newly
furnished life.
there’s nothing wrong
with that glimpse.
it’s all you’ve
always wanted to be.
silence.
utter silence.
and then you hear
a water drop traveling
down, reaching for
the sink,
to be in touch
with something it
belongs to.
or maybe your heart
wants it to be
that way.
this is what
loneliness
looks like.
I saw a steamy
hot cappuccino
waiting, in front
of me.
soon enough, her
owner held her up
and the series of
unfortunate events
started.
click. YAAASSSS. post.
“hold it like this.”
“look lost, like
you’re thinking about
how good it is.”
damn right, she is
pretty good.
beautiful, indeed.
few more click and
taps later, the hearts
started pouring in.
sadly enough, the noise
of her owner’s escape
blinded the silent art of
a hot brew.
I felt bad.
for her.
for she wasn’t
warm inside
anymore.
once upon a sonnet i was,
in manicured lawns and orion nights,
the silver brook ran without a pause,
flowers rested in yesterday’s delight,
the wakening birds around me speak,
of a spirit kindred to my own,
i hear their long scythe whispering to the weak,
i was sure i worked no more alone,
but soon enough the sun did fade,
and my dreams just held on to speech,
unsure i was, without any aid,
and fog covered what was within my reach,
as long as i can light up the dark with my heart,
so long it won’t matter, if we’re together or apart.
it’s a lonely thing
living with
yourself
protecting your
breakable heart
but it doesn’t
matter
whether you are there
with me or not
what is the difference
the life was
merciless,
and is still merciless.
Life in a blog 