Dark

It’s a dark day.

I finished a book yesterday,

but today is dark.

 

I can’t breathe,

because I’m too busy

holding my breath.

 

I am radiant,

shining sweat

of nightmares.

 

I can’t think today,

because I’m too busy

forgetting.

All the lives we do not live

I wish I were an adventurer; one who climbs the highest mountains. Or a wanderer, enjoying the life of a stray. I wish I could see the whole world in one blink of an eye, but so far I haven’t yet.

I wish I were born in Paris, grown up with a magical different language. Or, that I could have lived a life in the past. I wish I could have seen the future, to assure myself I shouldn’t worry, but so far I haven’t seen it yet.

With all that longing it doesn’t defy my greatest wish: I wish I could be me, and be with you, but it doesn’t seem to be that way just yet.

Loving words

I’m filled with empty words,

that speak to you in riddles.

Cursed,

I live with the sole wish that the rain

will wash my dirty mind clean.

 

There must be a million books worth

reading more than your mind.

But you’re my shiny new toy,

that was my least favorite gift

last Christmas.

 

Yet, you say loving words,

and endure the silent of my reply

so beautifully,

it’s surprising how unbroken

you still are.