Morning light is harsh

Morning light is harsh.

Your cracks, full of depth under the moonlight

borrowed their complexity from the stars.

Now I see they were simple mirrors,

far from black holes, deep ponds of celestial dust.

I thought I loved you,

seeing the comets seeping through your scars like sap.

You just mirrored mine.

It was me who filled you with stars.

The constellations I saw in your skin

are nothing more than pigment specks

prosaically sprawled on your milky back.

I can no longer coat your pretentiousness in metaphors -

I am tired of you.

What was enough by the candlelight

cannot compare to the glow of northern lights.

The gravity of you is suffocating.

The raspberry smell of the universe
fouled by the stench of you.

Your insecurities smell of misguided pomposity,

stale cigarettes, desperation and rotting fruit.

Your thinly veiled shallowness engages nothing more

but my gagging reflex.

Morning light is harsh.

The blurred edges of your words

mellow in the night

cut sharp like daggers
with the first light.

letters to my future boyfriend

I imagine us lying in grass and gazing up to the skies. It would be a lazy summer afternoon with sunlight filtering through the trees.
We would be young, reckless and in love. Our eyes closed as sun would be shining and we forgot our sunglasses. I wouldn't mind though because when I'd look at you, having to shadow with my hand, your face would look stunning as at times it would be bathed in sunlight. My vision would be blurred at sides and you'd look like a dream.

words

Words are the way to
enthrall me, enchant me, entice me.
If someone ever tells me
I'm a thunder with magic
spilling from my lips,
I'll be theirs
(till the echo stops)
I'll pay for this weakness in the end
for words are nothing
when the hands lie idle
but at least I'll go with your lips
on my ear, whispering
stories of Pandora,
the old gods in the skies
the lover's kiss up for rent.

Word Diary #1

28/08/11

walk in the woods/ grandma and grandpa/ cold beer/ breath of autumn in summer air/ jeux de lumière/ flower wreath/ yellow and green/ nostalgia

More

Films and books taught me how to feel.

And they are also a reason why reality simply isn’t enough for me.

I want more romance, more drama, more adventure, more epicness, morePURPOSE.

I just want MORE.

Do you feel cool?

Every day, I see people around, who when I look them, I think: “They are cool.” 

Cool in a sense of being different, confident, relaxed and they look like they are enjoying being unique and don’t care what others might think about them.

I just sometimes wonder if a day will come, when someone looks at me in the street and will think to himself, ‘she is cool’.

.

My dreams are so vivid lately,

every morning it takes me a while

to realise what is real.

Reality is always

the less desirable option.