mime

I long to rest
the enchantment
that you have unknowingly
planted inside me

(a longing I dare not face)

I cannot help
but succumb to your rain
for it's hard to resist
when an innocent gaze
is all that it takes
to lure me in

and even though
you choose not to speak,
I need not ask
to satisfy my craving
for your story.

the windows
of your soul
betray you-
I see
your dark fairy tales,
(most of them, sad
all of them, beautiful) -

they roam,
flowing in
bittersweet grace -
enjoying resonance
inside the intensity
of your silent eyes

release

I own no words
none that can absorb
these tiny
bitter pixels
that scatter
as i exhale

I'm too weak
to command
the needed presence
of comforting words
here, in this
solemn
lonely room.

I've no words
to speak of the song
of my painful heart-

so
tonight,
this is my poem:

these drops
of sparkling tears
flowing
from my weary eyes.

Sometimes we give in

Its human nature -
trying to be strong
and actually succeeding

but only until

the candy coating
of joyful strength
slowly melts

struggling hard
against the passion
of luminous longing

sunset

this afternoon
I saw the sun
as she rested
before coming home

from work.

Its not polite to stare,
but I did, while I could -
I needed to.

I knew she'd understand

I love her that way-
peaceful and sleepy

her light

resting

against soft

pillow clouds

noise pollution

I bathe myself
with sounds
too big
and
too loud
for contended hearts

how could I give in
to the plea of my ears
when these
and all that they stand for
block away my thoughts,
sheilding me
from your memory

A fool I am
to have tatooed your voice
in all the fragile corners
of my tired mind

Its presence makes me weak

So I listen to others
as they sing -
they do
all my shouting
and my screaming

hoping that
when I walk back
into the room of silence

your unwelcomed voice
in comparison
shall merely be
a fading echo-

a distant noise
slowly drifting
to non-existence

to the past

There is a place
where pain is forbidden

at times,
I deem it
to be my utopia

I seem to cry tears of wine
that you cannot resist

and
oblivious as I am,
I oblige
to your addiction.

explicity
you seem to drink my pain

needles in my heart -
nectar in your tongue.

ethereal

I long
for pure
total
weightlessness -

understated
ecstacy

beyond the reach

of words
thoughts
feelings

right there,
in a distant
fragmented
dimension -

where I
become the wind

and forgiveness-

becomes me.

Galapagos

once more,
Billy is singing me to sleep.
and desperately
I try to be lost in the fabric
that he has woven
for me to hear.

Tonight
This is what I choose to believe;
that I am not myself
but merely a memory
made to liberate
trapped notes
in his untouched past
and his forgotten future.

I am the lady then,
years back.

the present apple
that he breathes

the pale ghost
of christmas future -

this is all me
when I chose
not to be myself,
but his summoned muse.

And I hear his songs

and in his pain I hear my pain
only tonight,
I choose it to only be his
and without question, he agrees.

and in gentle calmness
of fake comfort
and illegible escapes-
daydreams
real dreams
and all in between,

the echoes of his voice carry me -
and for that moment, I am free.

and I sleep

In celebration of my silent victory.

...

See me

Not through the mirror

But through my eyes

So that you may learn

Not the lies

Nor the estimation

Nor the impression

You have formed

From the freedom you took

To measure me...

Then shall you only

Truly understand

I am right when I say

You have not seen me

Not at all.

you

Slowly
in denial
in supposed calmness
in oblivion
I hurt myself.

This
is what
you have become;

this thin
decieving
cigarette

nestled
in my shaking hand.

----------------------------------

image taken from bbc.co.uk.

----------------------------------

twister

light enters the distant corner
and she sees the familiar face
now, of the stranger
that she once shared the world with.

the audience applauds,
shouting and cheering
in glorious abandon-

she hears nothing
but faint whispers
muffled giggling
and sweet ramblings-
the air outside is cold,
but he is warm.
for her,
that is enough.

colors danced as the rhythm began
in careful, beating paces-
smiles and movements
beer and laughter-
eagerness
glaring brightness

A few moments
were all that they had-
intense stares
that shared secrets in silence -
(she never spoke that deep,
that whole...)
As their eyes conversed
without words,
she bared her soul.

He looks around,
and is pleased with what he sees
and he smiles as he hears them-
the loud, faceless crowd.
the crowd that she now resides in.

It was was rough and rowdy,
as he started the night.
but she did not mind;
she was someplace safe-

here,
in the the bittersweet shade
of a silent morning,

where her eyes
were all that his eyes could see
and her voice
was all that he chose to hear
and her smile
was all he wanted to need -
and happily ever after
seemed to step out of the fairy tale

loving

misleading

embracing them.

How

expansion of thought
and of theory
to hide
the inner longing
and waiting
and wanting
that she has placed
under thick,
barbed wires -
that is her escape.

In repetition
she recites:
I am fortunate,
I am not shattered.
my heart is merely broken;
my soul is only bruised.

she floats with
the sparkling notes
that fly and dance
in her room -
she is one with them;
they are her pain
and her joy
that freely move,
away from the prison
that she has planted
in her core.

Sternly,
she speaks to her mind:

read those volumes again,
every word that you remember
and those that you forget -
be the thought
that fills the space
between the lines.

listen well,
and drink the beauty
of any simple tune -
so that for you
It is nothing short
of a symphony.

watch,
reflect,
and for a moment,
fully live on the passion
pouring from the tv screen -

hoping against all odds
underneath the enchantment
and the painkillers
disguised as art

hoping,
hoping too hard ...

to heal.

symphony

encased
in morning melodies -
singing birds
moving feet
dripping dew...

I remain entranced
by your lovely tune.

you are the sound
of the rainbow
in my dreams...

beautifully haunting -
and nonexistent.

I miss you

I miss you in a different way -
It's not yearning,
nor longing
nor hurting
as that of before.

Rather...
It's more of solemn stillness
and echoed sadness
brought by waves of simple,
nagging nostalgia -
summernights, and endless dreams,
floating...
floating against the distant light.

Clear and certain,
I miss you...
Not with the tears
that I've shed before,
tears that used to grow,
pounding my head
in confusing beats -
throbbing,
piercing,
tearing me to pieces.

I miss you in a different way,
for now,
I forgive myself
for missing you too much,
too deep,
and once... too soon.

I miss you,
Not with denial
as that of the past,
rather,
its more of me accepting
what i refused to know
What I've failed to see before.

I miss you,
and now i am at peace,
now that I finally see
why you're not with me -

cause now, at last,
I understand...
you are where you should be.

(2003)

THE GLASS

Serenade me
through walls and bounderies
between us.

I'm a long way from you,
but each night I sleep,
with your assuring melodies.

There, behind the glass of fame,
you fail to see me staring,
seeing you...

It's a tough world, divided...
you in my fiction, and me,
far in my reality.

But still,
I can close my eyes
and see you instead, staring...
seeing me.

(2003)

SECOND VOICES

I try
to breathe
against the current
that is her eyes;
estranged tales
and tangled emotions -
deep and dark

and happy at times


all inside her masquerade -
a hidden tear per question,
a restless state of doubt,
substitutes for answers,
all is well, fears are out.

yet in silence,
I watch her hear him sing,
I watch her indifference
and feel her melt,
slowly,
painfully,
all in secret.

And comfort
is what I can never give.
It is what she could never feel.

And she tries to sit steady,
as she bites her nails...

waiting, still.

WAITING

it seems that waiting
is a fate that I must face;
muffled voices from neighboring tables,
distant footsteps from passing strangers,
passive thoughts of melancholy
all these, my faithful company.

I swim in the middle of a fading crowd
and I am not allowed to drown.
nor am I allowed to rest my weariness;
it's dark once more and I must not mind,
It's cold, and I must not feel.

And waiting, still
is the art that I must master,
a part of me
that I have no power to cut,
or improve,
or even become complacent with.

It is my cross;
when to and not to love it
is a quest that I undertake-
a path that I must walk,
a road that I must pave.

And yes, Still, waiting in itself
Is the goal that I must understand,
amidst the sound of troubled vans
and rushing cars,
and coffee cups nearing their ends,
still, all these I fail to comprehend.

Waiting still for your promises,
way past their expiration dates...
way beyond my deadline for holding on.
waiting, alone and so silent
all the same... all in vain.

*****

*image taken from

www.magda-francot-art.com/newpage28.htm

Clown

I don't know what you have in you
that compliments that
which i never knew i had in me

it leaves me with wonder
how close my reality seems to be with your reality,
as close as what has become you and me.

I see you walk around
and i see myself
as i would walk around -
and it's unusual
in the best way that unusual could be,
in the best way that strangers are alike,
possibly.

its not love,
nor is it something less -
an emotion that lives uniquely in us,
too rare, unnamed and untimely.

I see your eyes
and answers are more distant
than they ever were -
but still,
it never not mattered
as much as it didn't matter before
It never was as important
as it had value times before
questions are drifting and it's okay
reasons are nowhere
and it's okay.

I know that I should
leave that truth that you exist -

it will kill me, that I embrace,
and I shall die
in a way that I've never died before.

past heartaches that still bleed
would not compare,
still its a fact that i must comprehend;

what I never will understand in your gaze
is something that I will hold,
after all has been erased,

nothing will ever matter more,
nothing will ever mean so much.

and you and me would be a faded memory,
the memory that made me breathe and sing.

and you would look at me then
with nothing but a familiar clarity.
a clarity that I would feel,
but choose to hold,
now, in secrecy.

Tonight

I never thought I'd hear myself say this again,
but I don't want to be alone tonight.
I don't want to feel the security,
nor the strength that I've found in me alone;
I refuse to take pride in my independence,
and in my ability to stand on my own.

I don't want to be alone tonight,
with my objective mind as my sole companion,
with reason as my comfort,
and rationality, my defense.

i feel the familiarity in my hard-earned peace,
and hard as it might be to fully admit,
I feel no sense in this silence,
No complacency in this numbness.

I fought hard to realize that I am strong,
and my dependence is but a myth;
I myself am complete,
with no missing piece but me,
and me alone;
nights are made for the sun to rest it's core;
for minds to sleep and leave before.
nights are merely nights, and nothing more.

I never thought I'd feel this once again,
but I don't want to be alone tonight.
With your song faintly playing from afar
Without the warmth that your silly strangeness brings,
away from the depth of the emotion in your eyes,
free from the gentle curve of your lips when you smile...

I never wanted to feel this again,
For I am finally where I want to be.
In a place where I am not within the reach of hurting,
the state of mind where I am free of feeling pain.
Away from needing and longing and wanting...
here, away from where you seem to be.

Who knew that I would mean saying this again,
that I don't want to be alone tonight.
for your thought alone makes me see where I really am,
in the middle of nowhere,
floating with the new me,
free, yet melancholy...
safe, but alone.

That is what's teuw -
I am alone tonight,
with all of what I now have in me -
my security, my strength,
my pride, my independence,
my reason, my rationality,
my defense, my peace,
my complacency,my freedom,
my safety, my heart and my mind...

yet, I say this with all honesty;

I don't want to be alone tonight.
Alone,
Without the fear of not having you,
without feeling the weakness
and humility that you found in me,
without the dependence that I may feel with your presence,
without the chains that tie my heart and mind to you.
without my irrationality,
my chaos, and all my uncertainty,
without the thought that I have been fooling myself
In thinking I was whole;for it is you that complete me.

I don't want to be alone tonight.
And I am shattered,
despite the fact that I am with all that I worked hard for.
one certainty - I would be awake until the crack of dawn.
One truth stands, and suddenly, my numbness is merely a theory.
tonight, I am alone.
with everything that I thought was real.
with everything that I wish I held in me.
with everything that I now do hold true...

... without you.

magic carpet