I’ve been dreaming of flying

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

Born in rain
I can only become water again.

I need a hug

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.

Raised by Wolves

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.

I don’t miss you

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.

Affection

Affection. You know that feeling, right?

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.

I slowly shut down like a sunflower.

I’m back

Hi everyone. I haven’t been here for a while, as there was a lot going on in my life and I simply didn’t have time to write. But I’ve missed you all dearly and I have a lot to tell you (I mean the stories I ‘store’ in my head).

So, I’m back now. Even though I’m not sure how this blog should look like and how to continue it. But I’ll figure it out. I’m still quite busy and I’m writing the last chapter of my poetry collection, that’s why I may not post regularly. Bear with me, though, don’t go anywhere. I still have a lot to tell you… I have to let my voice out.

Now, enjoy the story.


So, I met a girl.

She was dark and mysterious with the look in her eyes saying: ‘I’m tough, nothing can bring me down.’ She walked with confidence, not smiling, not showing any weakness. Turned out, that was just a shell, just an impression.

I had no intention to meet her closer, I didn’t want that. She was intimidating and scary to me. Just the fact I could watch her from afar was more than enough to me. Her beauty and her ignorance were putting me off.

How did it happen then? How did I meet her?

It just happened because things just happen in life.

As soon as we started talking, I quickly realized she wasn’t what she’d appeared to be. It was just a mask that she’d put on every day to protect herself. And how can I blame her? People are cruel, people don’t understand, they don’t like otherness. And she was, indeed, different.

She was very sensitive, lonely, lost and deeply unhappy. I could only guess her reasons for that. Despite the fact she was true and always said what she was feeling and thinking, I knew she wasn’t completely honest with me. There was something more to that. And I couldn’t quite point it out.

She told me once that I can always speak to her when I feel like I need a friend. But it wasn’t me who needed a friend and I knew that. I did nothing, though. She was giving me signals that I ignored.

Didn’t I want her to be my friend? Maybe.

The truth is, she was intense. Very intense. Difficult to speak to sometimes. Too sensitive and emotional. She needed to be taken care of. And I’m SO the wrong person to do it. (Even plants die with me.)

Did I want her gone? Maybe.

And so she is. Gone. Now I’m wondering if it was my fault. Maybe I should engage more in that relationship. You don’t meet someone whom you can have a true connection with every day. I know that now. You miss it once you had it.

I wish I’d never known her the way I had.

But is it really true?

Of course it isn’t. She was my emotional reflection in the mirror. She knew about me more that I know. Right from the start she knew what I was. She revealed my true name. So, after all, she was my biggest blessing.

15.

In a midday of a rising sun
there was no sun to warm me up
the cold embraced me, soaking me deeply.
Words floated into the air
messing up with the thoughts unspoken
which never wished to come out.
Forced, they sank deeper and deeper
a lie lingering on my tongue
made me believe the words were true.
You were there in front of me
heavy like a stone in my chest
cold like ice in my heart. Numb.
The wind was everything you wanted
always desired by everyone
while I still was a rotten tomato.
With every step I take
I balance on edge perfectly fine
sure no one is there to catch me.
Even with you by my side
the sadness is still there
when I look at myself with your eyes.
I’ll always look at you with envy
your thin arms around me
your silhouette in the background.
I’ll always be one step behind you
following like a ghost, invisible
between trees that belonged to both of us.
So differently alike we shared our misery
and secrets that everyone could see
and they said nothing.
I said something not anything
wrapping my scarf around your neck
suddenly left hollow, empty.

Your beauty, my worth

I wish no one ever told me that I’m beautiful. Ever.

Because what is beauty? Is it really something you can see? Is it something you can touch?

I look in the mirror and I see a human, a woman with a face and body. I’m perfectly normal. What makes me beautiful in your eyes?

My Dear Grandmother, you told me once that my beauty is my worth. You weren’t talking about the real beauty, though. You meant the physical appearance. And people have been calling me beautiful ever since. I believe them, so I enter a room and I want to be admired, I want people to notice me, I want people to talk about me. If they don’t, my life is done. I’m done.

I put too much effort in something that doesn’t exist, in something that most of the people don’t care about. I’m drawn on a wall where you can see me, indeed, but in fact you cannot speak to me at all. I’m fake, made of paper.

I wish you never called me beautiful.

How should I live up to that now? You’ve ruined my life… You’ve ruined my life because you make me want to be beautiful. But I’m done. I won’t put a lipstick on only because society expects me to.

Friendships

Have you ever felt like you said one word too much? You know, when you speak to someone you barely know and you accidentally share something personal?

I’ve done it too many times. Then I’d analyse my every word and wish that conversation had never gone that way. It makes you wonder what that person is going to think about you. Will they care? Will they pass it on to someone or forget about it?

But how else to start a friendship? You must share some of you in order to make friends with someone.

I don’t make friends easily. I’m an introvert, which means I’m usually quiet around people. It’s more difficult to get to know me. I choose words carefully and say only the necessary ones. That doesn’t mean I have nothing to say. I do. But the things I want to say don’t interest most of the people. When I start, I’m not able to stop. Then there comes a logorrhea. And the logorrhea doesn’t make any sense…

Funny thing. I speak to people, but they can’t really understand the words I’m saying. That constant overthinking the purpose of my life on this earth. (Wherever I go, whatever I do, the philosophical sh*t is always with me). Apparently, most people don’t think about it. They just live.

Whenever I feel like I shared too much from myself, I want to crawl back into my shell and disappear. I grow distant and cold to the person I confided in, and that takes me right to the very beginning. That ruins the whole idea of a friendship.

Validation

Do you like yourself? Do you like the way you look?

I know most young people struggle to accept themselves for what they are. I’m not that young anymore, though, I’ve lived with myself for a few decades now. I’ve accepted my body, finally realising that’s the only thing I was given that truly belongs to me. I’ve learned how to like some of my qualities. I’ve stopped comparing myself to others. At least, I thought so.

Women sometimes seek men who admire them, so that they could find affirmation in those men’s eyes. Sometimes these women are looking for acceptance in someone else because they don’t know how to accept themselves.

In my case, it was the opposite. I fell for a man who hadn’t seemed interested in me. I felt good with myself, but I wasn’t good in his eyes. So I started questioning my appeal. I started spending more time in front of a mirror because I wanted to look my best. I started comparing myself to the women that were around him.

Look at her. She’s much prettier than me. Her skin is smooth, her hair is shiny, her legs are longer, she’s taller, she’s more feminine, she’s mysterious. Why would he want me, if she’s much better than me?

It seemed like he’d taken everything away from me. I didn’t want to be me anymore…

Deep down I knew, though, that the thoughts were ridiculous. Why should I rely on his judgment? Why should I seek validation from him?

I’ve always been content being on my own until you came along – Kora