that day, the world was beautiful because of you,
but i, long before the dawn, knew there would be no hope
in staying, and yes, i think you are my world
when i am with you. but that is not the point,
that is not the point at all. the origin of our feelings
had nothing to do with where we were going,
nothing to do with the saddest of days and nights,
and the tears that we shed at the wrong times,
and the loving words we spoke at the few times
when we thought we were in love. there were moments
and there were others. i could not carry you at all times
in my conscience. do you understand? i do not hate you, no,
it is quite the contrary. much so quite the contrary.
i do not need anybody else in the name of fairness
and common sense. but i do want you. times when i
thought everything was coming to an end i
thought of you, wanting to rush to you and say
“i love you” exactly how i used to wish someone,
just one, only one, would say it to me.
but the current of life and this shameful desire to live
always dragged me back, not letting me leave.
i do not mean to make you wait until the lights go off
to bare my soul to you,
to overwhelm you with undivided attention
(not the kind i have always given you in our presence,
but one that gives you the strongest sense of eternity,
the only time when death loses its charm and power.)
i do not mean to bring those tears upon your eyes.
but grief makes a person whom he is
while happiness makes him whom he thinks he wants to be.
are you whom you want to be? are you when i am holding you tight
in my arms, hearing my breath pacing against your heartbeats?
when i am with you
i am not whom i am or whom i want to be
but exactly what i must be if life is real, and death is also real,
and nothing else matters but the truth of you.
you asked me with tears down at your throat how i felt about you
how i truly felt about you, not how i thought you would want to be perceived. so here it is.
i am sorry that there are and always will be
disappointments. but disappointments, more often than not,
are so much needed for us not to lose touch with our truest feelings,
don’t you think?
Feb 26, 2011
take me back
to where I do not belong
take me away
from where I do not belong
it doesn’t really matter
that one day in the winter
you were mesmerized watching her
lick tiny transparent bubbly flakes of snow
that fell upon her tongue
but ever since, whenever your skin is closest to me,
your eyes turn away from mine.
you can’t bring yourself to look into my soul and see yours,
can you? our love is something you must convince yourself
to be true. you have been through many things like this
even your kisses have worn out. you have no desire of me
except for the madness of my words – encouraged by your
apparent existence in the world and within
my own. you are the worst pretender i have ever met
and the most sincere soul of misery i have
ever loved. i’m sorry for the pain you have brought
upon yourself because you long for pure love, true love,
and you can’t afford to break my heart the way
someone else broke yours. so you stay, so you smile,
so you do what you think will make my sadness a bit
easier. you think so, you do. you didn’t think i would
be able to hear the silent sigh you left
on the side of my neck as I held on
to your arms during the loneliness of a
cold winter night
this song is for you and me as we walk hand in hand
away from it all
knowing we will from now on go forever
into the breadth of our longest winter
that spreads itself over the course
of a slow white death
Give me a sky full of stars,
give me you,
then I shall have nothing to lose.
Walk me through the woods
of your true sanity.
Let me take you on our own trail.
You could tell
from the sounds of broken leaves,
dried branches, and sparkling stars,
no one else has ever gone this far
to find love.
Hands in each other’s coat pocket,
we walk toward the
empty center of our hearts,
listen to our favorite music,
the soundtrack of the night
while the stars are dancing to the notes of our voices,
laughters, and the warmth of our fingers
upon each other’s smiles.
Take me home with your eyes,
leave our field of stars behind.
It will be there if we come back.
Even if we never will.
did you see her?
oh, dear god, why
did she pull
where did she get
she was sweet
but now she is
no one thought she was
who could take her own
did you hear
she left a notebook
full of her life secrets?
damn, I wonder
what she wrote
do you think
it would explain
what she was
when she was alone,
in her room,
with the ugly gun
staring right into
sometimes I feel my words falling off me one by one and I cannot catch them and I can only watch them
like that rainfall that
cannot be stopped
over the roof of my apartment
and I get lost in
the growing absence of you
it consumes me
reaching out my hands
only to see fingers hanging in the air
you’ve never held them
I wish I could dream up the warmth of skin
but my imagination has its limits
I feel helpless in my crippled poetry
you are already forgetting me
and I, not sure what to do with my dying love for you,
get up around 3 a.m.
and make myself
a cup of hot milk
there is no tomorrow
only here, this warm whiteness,
sip by sip
the night drips
out of my eye sockets
contaminating my milk
I did not try to forget you.
At the end of my day,
as I was crashing on my bed,
your voice was resounding in my head,
Don’t fall asleep in your work clothes.
The scent of food you made in my kitchen
the aroma of your face, after-shave
the angle your lips formed with a smile
the long fingers tracing down my face
– they were still there,
as if you’d never gone away.
Why are you still thinking about him?
He wasn’t worth it
Of course he was the whole time we spent together.
Lovers know best how long is forever.
Those moments I had with him,
he was worth every one of it.
The streets, the highways, the mountains, the sea
Rain, snow, winds, moon, sunrises, sunsets
We walked, we ran, we drove, we flew through them all.
Until now I cannot get used to the emptiness
of my hands.
The blinds of my window haven’t changed,
you said you liked them, for they blocked
glances from those highly unwelcome.
Thus when we made love, they were never up.
They have remained there after you left.
and so did the sun.
And so did my attempt
to forget everything about you.
It does not concern me whether you are here.
To me you are a matter of fact.
To me you are intact.
To me you love me still.
And no matter how much he claimed he loved her with every piece of his existence,
he was always busy between 6 and 8 p.m. every Tuesday
8:30 p.m. every Tuesday, when he got home, he would
go straight to the hot bath she had prepared for him. She would like him
to do that before seeing her and kissing her, so he
would smell like sweet lavender, and she
would smell like whatever served at dinner