Counting

 

 

I’m counting, marking down the calendar
Cross of black every day passing
Getting me closer, plans will become
Non-verbal meaning comes thought
Life to be wasted, removed – forgotten
I shall do what it suits
No routine nor shackles
Or these faces I had given –
Remaining trust is no more
Tempting to tear this false apart
Without any more time, on hold
Patience my friend who cares of me
Telling me stories before falling asleep
What’s gonna look like –
Building this all from scratch
With your face nowhere to be seen

 

 

 

 

 

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Lantern

 

 

 

Nuance so to say
Hearing all these stories
Soothe your sorrow
Taking emotions out

With a lantern
Handed to you –
The beholder, stranger
For whom the future
Futile casts spells

In seconds brightened
Empowered seeing the exit
Getting back to your life
Turning, forgetting though
He won’t leave –
He can’t

And on and on
Many have come
Taking off something –
A little bit of light

Thank you, goodbye
Meaning slips down
With no added questions
He stays inside

But I think
The craft – Prometheus curse
Have to be ended
Thus no one else
Search for the answer
Or give him a hand
To leave the nightmare
Of never-ending dark

 

 

 

 

Mistake

 

 

For my mind to seek you
Is a tragedy itself
Given the story –
Comparing grains of greyness
To sunbathed grains of sand
Without noticing shade
Drawn upon where I stand

I am indeed, myself

 

 

 

 

Fly

 

 

The worthiness of self doubtfully awakened
Premature happiness turns out to be imposed
For those words you withhold – snowflake stare
My heart seeking answers, burns
In fact, we were not breaking the cold
Everything assured it had to stop
Of emptiness one’s shame – single dot
Before the sentence has started
Thought when you talk – a beautiful smile
Wasn’t for me to be down the line
And it feels heavy, getting to know
There is no place that I’m calling home
Being ignored, brushed off – like a fly
In self-defence I will say goodbye

 

 

 

 

Sin

 

With silence will be granted
Descent of foreign thought
The grip goes tighter
Breathe comes harder to stand
Despite aired words –
Nothing breaks the fog

Weakling in its form
Wearing coat of black
Reflected the light –
You idiot, it won’t be back!

Pages burned alive
Only second in your eye
Smoke that covers your sight

Scrath the wound
Reminder of my sin
The more you talk
The more you disappear
Bleeding edge –
Drop into ocean’s eyes
Where I’m drowning

With silence

 

 

Edit: Few words are repeated, though after changing them I realised the meaning loses on highlights, so decided to leave them and quit further attempts.

 

 

Naiveness within

The hangover of happiness –
becoming slightly numb
with each line ink spills spark
naive belief it will work out
for good or bad
a vital jump
into unknown
into dark

Veiled ones face demands a peace
little secret holds up, sees
hesitation and the fright
of the success or its lumps
though those signs exaggerated
steam keeps coming outer side
vast the plan to conquer heart
with no entrance for my mind
piled up questions – gestures sight
as if only I could ask
having answer – ‘no’ at hand
then the effort doesn’t count

So is said – now I write
accompanied lullaby
thus I dream and will reach out
to be smacked down
one more time

Sentiment

A sentiment held upon. Coffin lying down the ground. Coming back – waste of time – the hope of future drives out path. For those stitches bringing you pain, remembering what had been said. In my head a voice and a figure dancing over the grave. Candle burning lifting up a greyness of marble statue – the sight of nothingness locked in the frame.

Cliché.

Of you, by you being looked down on. Having nothing to offer trying to get a grasp of the star that has been shining up above my head. While with no intention of bringing my cemented aspirations, resurrecting to be alive again, you did so – for which I’m thankful. But what I can give? Seeking a solution to what seems like the mountain, highest than ever climbed before.

Glance and a word justifying consent given to myself. Deciphering an essence simplified, twisted, made to be easier making it my own. For you with no meaning, to me giving some light. Thus I won’t be praying for the truth that has already settled right before my eyes. Sour aftertaste fills the mouth in inevitable realisation – ember passing away.

Stubbornness denied while speechless drawn its conclusion, selected lines foreseeing the upcoming result that sooner or later will doom the naiveness. Until then a trial ongoing will perhaps reveal. The motion of my hunger and yours of not ended past. With each push, a pull necessary got to be less effective.

And so is the smile becoming a treasure buried down your marble mask. Emotionless, lonely, not a single word should come out, nor it won’t guarantee I am.

The diary of broken hearts.