Purple grape hair,
tip of the finger is cold.
Are you here?
Memories are stalks of
pine trees in lonely winter.
I need to replenish.
There is no new you,
but unique is the way
to your only flawless self.
You put me in a peaceful sleep.
The sadness becomes cheer.
Sunlight won’t be selfish.
Purple grape hair,
the sharp and the keen.
You are never denied.
2020
we move in silence.
the dead air is unfriendly.
our walk is rough.
there is a distance that freaks us.
2020
A thought in a core
reverberates in the early
hours of the February dawn.
It narrates through the
remaining silver highlights
of the full moon.
A framed black roses
is hanging undeserved on
the wall.
Neither we crack
jokes at a funeral, nor
nudge an elbow at weddings.
The echo is intended
to shift from one place
to the rest.
We are swept away.
Our own faults are not
better than your transgressions.
2020
Your
contemplation freed
you from grief.
The
memory of a heartache
is buried deep.
Not
a lonely drop of tears
has flowed.
You lean in silence,
full of peace.
2020
they put sleepless
nights on our
heads.
the hours are
trembling in chronic
cycles.
loathing the gray
shades on our
canvass,
they tolerate the
bees to sting our
skins.
2020
I
pulled your
summer toes
in
the miracle
of the dawn.
The
purple sky
is my only witness.
2020
You are like Uranus, spinning backwards.
You delight in your past, the ghosts bother you.
I woke up one morning,
Saw you steadily sitting on a bench.
I’ve watched you secretly from afar.
You cried and blamed yourself from your mistakes.
You hated yourself.
You built walls, disconnected from the world.
You left your cheerful state.
I am still here.
I’ve waited, I’ve called.
I’ve loved you for whatever reasons.
You never cared.
You never tried to pursue our good future.
Sad for you.
Cried for you.
You will never be coming home again
to love me like you have loved
me from the start.
2020
