I’m standing here, on the firm ground reaching out so high I’ve been dreaming of flying to the skies where I can see my thoughts where I can unite with myself. Yet, I’m standing here chained like a horse running round and round with my neat shoes on I step into puddles wanting them to be mirrors.
Where do I go with my broken armor so indifferent still longing for something that has never been here.
born in rain streaming down my face drawn in a fantasy creating unreal realms revealed in sadness blackening the skies i cannot hold a single sphere dig a hole in the ground to pour my soul in
It’s getting cold. You wake up in the morning and get out of the bed with your cold feet you head to the window. You touch the cold glass trying to touch the sun, rising in the distance. Cold.
The weather has nothing to do with the cold that I carry in myself, though. It’s always been here. Never goes away. Never disappears. Like crystals of ice covering my skin. Why am I so cold?
You just need a little bit of fire, my dear, you would think. But I walked through the fire many times and never felt a stroke of warmth. My body’s weak. Starving. Barely breathing. Vanishing.
I need a hug. Where are you? Asking the only person who could hug me. You know no one else can do it. Do not touch me. Do not come any closer. How sad is that? Always in the arms of strangers.
What did you do to me? Never needed this. Touching, hugging, talking. Always fine on my own. What did you do to me? I picked the fruit from the tree, deep red, and I ate it forgetting how bitter it had been.
Maybe the Mother was right. Maybe I shouldn’t be on my own, after all.
Pretty little girl talking to you so innocent, so cheerful dressed in frills and smiles her blushed cheeks, her red lips What makes her real when you touch her hand she shyly looks in your eyes the look of an angel.
The things you see they’re not always real Not speaking, listening but you can’t really hear the thoughts. Sit straight, don’t breathe dress in white, always smile Walk like a lady do your nails, do your hair.
That’s all you see that’s all you want to know You never wonder about the story hidden behind You can’t really see how dark her soul is Marks under her skin carved by the rules.
Just leave your hair down let the wind to play with it Run barefoot between trees let your skin to be scratched Jump into the river let it steal your heart Sleep under the stars let them steal your dreams.
I make a move because I know you’re watching say things you want to hear but I don’t mean them I cover my head to hide but in fact I want to be noticed ignore you every day just to draw your attention.
That’s what you want to believe in. That’s your only explanation.
All the things that were supposed to make me authentic, made me fake.
Do you know that feeling when someone from your surroundings suddenly decides to leave? One of your colleagues, your friend, a member of your family.
Then everyone gathers for a leaving party in a garden or pub. There is music on, people are chatting, drinks on the table. Familiar scents hit you and you just want to have a good time in a good company, not thinking about tomorrow. Because tomorrow will arise in different places for both of you.
Everything what’s good must end eventually, apparently, suddenly. And you’re left only with what’s uncomfortable and bitter. Left with responsibilities.
That party ends tonight and everyone has to say ‘goodbye’, so you also say ‘goodbye, I’ll miss you’ and you really mean it because you feel like you liked that person. At that time…
Are you really going to miss them?
You wake up the next day, drink coffee and go to work. You have your own life to live. Do you give a second thought to them, since they far away and you’re probably not going to meet again? Where is he? What is she doing when she’s not here?
The truth is, I rarely miss people, even though I say it out loud, even though I feel like I could. When you speak and speak. When there’s no end. When you ask and ask, but you don’t want to know about things that no one wants to know about. When you’re not someone special to me, I will not, actually, miss you. I don’t miss you.
The question is: WHAT makes you feel that way about someone? Is it a true feature that someone holds or an imagined picture in your head about them?
I was in front of screen, busy with my work. Suddenly interrupted by him, I accidentally spilled my thoughts. I don’t do it often… Only then did I saw it in his eyes.
He’s been so cheerful around me ever since. Finding excuses to talk to me, only gently, so that I wouldn’t find out. But I knew already. I always know.
You pretend not to see, of course, because it’s easier that way. It’s a bit of fun and you don’t mind really. You quite like him and enjoy talking to him, even though not talking to him wouldn’t do any difference to you.
Sometimes you feel uncomfortable, but sometimes flattered somehow. So you try to be nice and you engage more and more, starting to say things that you wouldn’t say to anyone else.
Where does it lead you?
You start wondering what is there that he likes about you so much. Is it real? Is it going to bore him one day? Will he still like you when you make a stupid mistake? Will he still like you when he sees your true face? How long is it going to last? Will he loathe you for all the features that he used to love you for? I don’t know if it’s real and how much sincerity is in it.
Feeling overwhelmed and dizzy most of the time, he finds it inappropriate. Afraid of a bond that might form between us, he backs out. With regret, though. Once showing me affection, now he ignores me. Heavy-hearted, he pops the soap bubble, unknowingly pouring his bitterness all over me. And it hurts.
Are co-workers your friends? I doubt it. They’re just co-workers. Some of them you like more, some less, about most of them you don’t really care.
There is that guy at work who always says ‘Good morning’ to me, every day. We’re not friends or anything. We only speak about things related to work. I sort of like him for that. He’s always polite, and his smiley face is like the sun in a rainy day.
I remember one morning. I was really tired after a night full of nightmares. The only thing I wanted that day was to be invisible. Then the storm arrived and destroyed me. I didn’t respond to his ‘Hi’.
My head was spinning, I wasn’t myself. But this wasn’t supposed to be an excuse. I was really rude to someone I liked, to someone who was always nice to me. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this. I heard him say that, yet I decided to ignore him. Why? My moodiness has no limits.
I regretted my ignorance right away. I wanted to fix it, but I really didn’t know how. It was too late. Everything I built in myself collapsed. I can only imagine how bad he must have felt. He must have wondered how possibly he had offended me that I showed him such ignorance. He must have thought it was his fault.
(On the other hand, I might be completely wrong about him. Maybe this situation didn’t have any impact on him. Maybe it didn’t touch his feelings at all. After all, I was just another co-worker whom he just has to be nice to.)
You see, you never really know what impact you have on someone’s life until you hurt them.
How does the story end? Turns out his kindness was real. Real and more powerful than my moodiness and ignorance. I feel like I don’t deserve it… That made me realise I should appreciate more the people in my life.
There once was a drop of water, who had lived on a small leaf near to the ground. She spent there all days disappearing silently into the air at night and appearing again in the morning as dew. Always sitting on the same leaf.
One day, the wind whiffed low and gently brushed the leaf with the drop of water on it. The wind stopped there swirling around.
‘What are you doing here, drop of water?’ he asked.
‘I live here, that’s my home,’ she responded.
‘Why is that? Shouldn’t you flow with the stream?’ the wind couldn’t understand.
‘No, it’s dangerous,’ she said.
‘Shouldn’t you pour down with the rain?’
‘No, that’s too much risk.’
‘Shouldn’t you create waves together with the ocean?’ the wind kept asking.
‘But… I’m scared.’
‘Why are you scared of who you are? Stream, rain, ocean… these are what you’re meant to be.’
‘Of course, these are what I’m meant to be. I am water. I could be anywhere. I just choose to be nowhere,’ the water said and hid behind the leaf.
What is your first thought when you wake up in the morning?
Where am I? How long have I been here? Who am I going to be today? Who am I going to be for the next five years?
I wanted to be someone new. Someone whose life is exciting and full of adventure. I’d dreamed of my new life every day, pictured it in details and couldn’t wait it to be true.
Everything had been drawn. Everything had been planned…. Everything fell from the cliff into the wild sea I wanted to feel in my heart.
Now I’m standing on the edge. Torn. Either I step back into the comfort of the soft grass or jump to catch my dreams. It’s only a nanosecond and suddenly I find myself calling after the wind who takes everything.
So here it is, another volume of poetry have just been published by myself. Another collection of words spilled straight from my broken soul. Written with sweat and blood.
It’s been my favourite one – a bit dark but heading towards the light (I think).
Please survive through the whole book, because at the end of it is the best piece I’ve ever written (I think).
There once was a boy, who climbed a hill every morning to see the sunrise. He was sat on a bench watching the sun warm up the earth. I asked him if he wasn’t tired and bored of watching the same thing every day. He told me that he wouldn’t ever be bored of something that gave him life. I didn’t understand what he meant.
So, the other day I woke up early in the morning to join the boy in watching the sunrise, as I still wasn’t sure what all that was about. I climbed the hill, catching my breath and then, exhausted, I sat on the bench next to the boy. We were sitting in silence, watching the first rays breaking the horizon.
The next day I was so excited to see it again that I almost ran up the hill. But when I reached the bench I noticed that it was empty. The sun was ready to rise, and there was nobody to watch it apart from me. As I sat on the bench I found a notebook left behind. I opened it. Then I understood…
