When silence isn’t quiet anymore


Do you know that sometimes, when is dark,

-really dark

your ghostly eyes do light my path, like white, slow fires,

and in their flames I see desires?

-you think I’m blind?-

Is it true that, sometimes, when it’s cold,

-truly cold-

your icy lips do freeze the sweet and soft caresses

and all I hear is bitter guesses?

-you think I’m deaf?-

Have you see that, sometimes, when love dies,

-actually dies!-

your hopeless heart still speaks its free, wild prayer

and I am tortured by despair?

-you think I’m voiceless?-

Oh, don’t you know that silence screams the coldest blasphemy?

It turns my soul into a scene for wild obscenity!

It shouts into my helpless agony…

-that you are lost-

It isn’t quiet in its cruelty!

-When all we are is dust in savage wind,

you think I’m made of stone?-



All credits for the photo to Abigail from http://www.pixabay.com







steampunk-4107687_960_720The insatiable green cups of my eyes tasted your venom,

so now, drunk and weary, my tears are wandering…

You tried to kiss them, but my eyelids desperately fluttered, like two intoxicated birds escaping cages.

The broken wings of my eyebrows stretched to their zenith, until my expression was nothing but fear.

It was not innocence, the reason why I shivered under your touch,

while lips are trembling, and hearts are dying crushed by the fists of despair!

You thought my eyes are bright, but they were empty…’cause drunken tears left long ago, searching for drugs higher than love.

My green cups of fragility, doors to a soul you ravished, now learning to be sober.

Come close, my love, just taste a drop of honey, it pours onto my blushing cheek, I swear it’s sweet…

Don’t be so shy, why do you fear me? It’s only poison…

The one you gave me long ago…until…drunk and weary…and lost…

I became an addict.



All credits for the photo to the talented Felicia Ruiz from http://www.pixabay.com



boat-2751842_960_720When moonlight rises into twilight, turning my silence into lullabies, I’m hungry for your love.

To paint the white echoes of your memories in crazy, vivid nuances,

Tell me you want me…

When angels leave and ghosts are nesting in my soul, only your voice will calm the hurricanes that scream inside me!

Trying to save my long lost conscience from drowning in despair,

Promise you’ll be…

When shelters crash and walls are breaking into this homeless, loveless inner world, I need your body to become my safe place.

Destroy the barricades between your heart and mine,

Say that you can…

I’m homesick and you know it, it feels in every kiss!

So bring me home, my love

Back to the place where you were yearning to adore me…

This time – Make it eternal.



All credits for the photo to the talented Patricia Alexandre from http://www.pixabay.com





The Collector


Aligned properly, facing the sun, the jars look colorful and happy. He drew himself the smiling faces, careful about each single detail, for they’re a pure expression of beauty and joy.

He knows about tenderness, the way he learned it all of his life, so, from time to time, he speaks soft words to the happy jars. And when a new one is added to the alignment, he sings a special song of victory.

He’s not afraid to say the words.

I love you when he runs his fingers on the top of his jars, making sure they’re all clean and pretty. He could swear that a smiling face smiles even brighter under his gentle touch.

You’re safe with me when he locks the silver cap of every happy jar, convinced that a sense of entitlement is the guarantee for every meaningful existence.

My sweet darling when colors mix together in wonderful rainbows and the happy jars are simply blooming under his safe guidance.

He’s happy with his happy jars and no one talks about dark fantasies and dirty secrets, and no one even knows…

’cause no one ever cared about those silly, dippy, giddy, pretty happy jars!

But when all butterflies laid breathless, behind the painted glass of happy jars, when painted happy faces were the only witness of the last flinch of those white pairs of wings…

when lifeless eyes contemplate a sun that’s colder than a thousand infernos…

that’s when the world you knew becomes a place of danger.

Because, you know, he still collects them, he still aligns them to face the sunshine. He still draws happy faces, endless rainbows, little pink hearts, making sure that all of his butterflies are perfectly pretty and clean inside of his happy jars.

And now he knows the secret…when they lay motionless, all butterflies turn into heart-shaped diamonds. 

And hearts are just irresistible to this kind of predator, aren’t they?


Note: Yes, it was about the Malignant Narcissist…


All credits for the photo to Jill Wellington from http://www.pixabay.com

Lavender fields

lavender-2426376_960_720Meet me where blue petals dance in swirling winds and air is filled with wonder and bewilderment. I’m waiting there, my love.

Dressed in flowers and white butterflies, my skin will mesmerize your senses, sweet scents embracing naked souls in their flight to the promised bliss.

You’ll ask me if I’m a fairy, but I’ll only smile, leaving all witchcraft behind, for you were mine since the beginning of the earth.

I’ll ask you if you’re my long lost warrior, the one who fought odds and hazardous labyrinths, beasts and villains, kingdoms and infernos.

You’ll stop me with a kiss, for talking is nonsense and logic is overrated. I’ll laugh.

My hair will taste like summer on your lips, long golden curls nesting on your bare chest, like seraphs roaming between worlds and universes.

My sweet, you’ll call me…my everything you’ll be…

I’ll whisper your name like a spell that kills all heartbreak, in melancholic songs you’ll praise the beauty of this endless yearning for warmth.

But then, out of the blue, I’ll cross the bridge to reality, leaving our love behind, while you sleep smiling in your dreams, in cradles made of tall grass and tender blue petals.

Don’t be so sad, it’s not unfair, nor cruel or devastating…

For we belong to the lavender fields

and we will meet again…

when blue is blooming in our foolish dreams.



All credits for the photo to the talented S. Hermann from http://www.pixabay.com



dream-catcher-4065288_960_720I see wild storms rising in your eyes. 

That’s what she told me with a smile, the lost little girl. She was wearing her favorite dress, with blooming flowers on a pink horizon. She smiled and light rolled over her blushed cheeks.

I think you’ll wander for a while, lost in the rain.

She played with the big white ribbons in her hair, until blonde curls flew freely in the summer’s wind. Then, as a last symbol of her resistance to monotony, she threw away her white shoes. She laughed to see them floating and disappearing in the highs.

You’ll see the light eventually, but you’ll be too frightened to admit it.

You always are.

Her palms drew circles in the thin air, leaving golden traces, coloring the unseen into a million sparkles. She turned to me with impossible bright eyes.

You’ll run away a thousand times. The storm will almost break you. I see you searching, foolishly choosing, settling with less than crumbles. Blind to real love, for you mistook it for addiction! I see you – You Fool! – and it makes me cry.

She stood there, silently crying rivers of blue diamonds, until the sky above us became one with this ocean of hopelessness and pain. That’s when I fell.

Down on my knees, I was begging the Heavens above for one more smile.

For one more glimpse into the Light.

You have to step into the darkness, to return home. Where love is everlasting and wishes do come true. Where you two, silly dreamers, will rise in love. 

“Who are you?” I asked her, while she spread her wings and melted away in rainbows of light.

“Who is he? Who is my silly dreamer?” I whispered into the wind, too weak to find faith, too lonely to care about my losses.

Look for green eyes and lighthearted smiles. For the poetry that rhymes like a love song and for the rhapsodist who’ll write with light into your soul. Search for the everlasting.

And morning dissolved my mesmerizing dream.


(to Frankie)


All credits for the photo to the talented Anke Sundermeier from http://www.pixabay.com










Bless me with rain

cherry-blossoms-in-the-rain-2090345_960_720Silky and airy – fingertips touching clouds,

Insatiably sweet – rain on my lips,

Kisses from a thirsty burning sky…

Old cherry trees, slow dancing in the misty light.

Blue petals in my hair.


Where do you fly so suddenly – white birds of summer?

Behind the dark, is there a brighter place?

Thief, playful wind! Give me the kisses!

The butterflies you stole from yesterday’s dream!

Soft whispers of my heart.


One with the sky – my dream was dying,

From ashes to restore my faith in Love!

This time I will…I promise to remember

How roses bloom in corners of my mouth.

The traces of your light.


I know this storm, it’s gonna be so gruesome!

I feel its voice, it hollows through my soul…

Bless me with rain, oh, God of thunders!

So that my cry would stay unseen

Into the blindness.


Blue petals in my hair, soft whispers of my heart,

The traces of your light into the blindness.

Is it a dream? There’s no sense in this rain!

No sense at all

To feel so lonely.



All credits for the photo to the talented Jan Haerer from pixabay.com




Don’t want to be here anymore!

heart-3064544_960_720Still, here I am, knocking at his door, holding the broken pieces in the cup of my palms.

He takes his time, why wouldn’t he? A million years of similar stories have made him old, grumpy and a bit snappish. He’s entitled this time, though.

“You, again?” he asks, putting the black framed glasses on, as I nod and sigh.

“Okay, what is it this time?” and I show him the broken pieces, just to see him glaring at me.

“First time I understood. You were young and stupid, so you just played with it, dropped it and…crack! You broke it in two!

Then you gave it to someone…hmmm…he said he’ll fix it and the idiot smashed it to the floor! Remember?”

He surely sees the rain in my eyes, I surely want him to stop reminding me things that hurt so deep…but I guess it’s part of my reason for being here. He will make sure I listen the whole story, I know he will!

“Then some other people…wait, you called them how?…Aha, friends was the word. They poisoned it with venomous words and then, when you were not looking (you never pay attention, do you?) they stabbed it!

And someone stumped on it!

I told you not to show it, they will break it just for fun, but noooo…You, stubborn!

Let’s not forget your last performance: you locked it into a dark and cold place, then (trying to fool destiny) you began this crazy race against death and demons and hell itself! 

Well, guess who almost died?” 

He’s looking at the broken pieces: “Your heart

Can you fix it? I whisper hopelessly. Can you make it whole again? And I promise…

He turns his back.


“Don’t. Don’t plead. It’s just too broken. Take it back, I cannot fix the mess you created!”

But I can’t accept fate, never could, never will! So I just throw it back to him, shouting like thousand thunders:

If you don’t fix it, then I don’t want it anymore! I will be…heartless.

He angrily stares at my tears-steamed face:

“You can’t be heartless, you fool! You are specially created to love. God only knows why! You -stubborn, complicated, foolish, childlike and wild- your love has some kind of meaning and purpose. And He wants you to love.”

He mutters some words only he can hear, then returns to me with a crown.

“You should wear it until you get better. It’s called ForgivenessWear it upon the broken pieces, they’ll stick together again. Just give it time. And be gentle while it’s so fragile. 

It will be strong…it will be beautiful, even broken.

It still is.

Your heart.



All credits for the photo to the talented Alicja from http://www.pixabay.com





The cruelest day of June


“Your lips must taste like cherries, so wild and yet so sweet,

I would caress them softly like they’re my precious treat,

And in this dance of passion, my heart would skip a beat…

Only one kiss, that’s all I ask!

Take off that mask…”


He pleaded with his love, the girl with eyes like fire,

Her beauty was his curse – from distance to admire,

Now deeper than the ocean was his repressed desire!

So tender and so frail,

Behind the veil.


Oh, if you really love me, please, never ask again!

Don’t make me feel this sadness, don’t take me through this pain!

You’ll bring the storm inside me, I’ll cry with acid rain!

Just stay away, stay far!

I wear a hidden scar.


He smiled and kissed her fingers, their perfume to inhale.

“I swear, my darling sweetheart, I’ll never gonna fail!

My bride you’ll be for ever and love shall now prevail!

Your soul I will embrace…

Show me your face!


With trembling hands, denying the doubt inside her heart,

The mask that was so precious, now she just tore apart.

Frail girl, so sweet…her bravery was like the finest art.

At him she looked above.

Hoping for love.


“My goodness, what I’m seeing is a monstrosity!

How could I ever love such an atrocity!

Your scar is horrifying, an abnormality!

You want to hear the true?

I am afraid of you!”


That’s what he said while leaving her bleeding heart to die

No arms to hold the pieces, no acid tears to cry,

No strength to stop the darkness, not even wings to fly!

Just salty ocean deep

Her love to keep.


Her ghostly face still haunts him in nights with bloody moon

When memories are torture, he’s trapped in deepest gloom,

Repeating in slow motion the cruelest day of June…

For death he asks…

Behind his masks.


Be kind, be wise, be loving…when someone shows you their scars.

In loving memory of Diane.



All credits for the photo to the talented Joseph Berardi from http://www.pixabay.com









The one who gives

address-book-2246432_960_720Starry eyes, dreamy and bright, ready to sparkle, amazed by the mystery of life, they turn to oceans of blue, filled with hopeless regrets.

Playful fingers, burning with the restlessness of so many unwritten thoughts, they write for their unspoken love, secretly wishing to touch, to caress, to discover.

Big heart, full of kindness, always ready to build bridges, to break walls, to conquer the silence in an universe of broken promises and abandoned emotions.

Lonely soul, searching for its family among strangers, willing to embrace the fragility of human faith, as the last resort against darkness.

Small steps, dancing barefoot on the icy surface of a dream they cannot let go, because it’s the one thing that keep them going.

Unrecognized fire, strong and stubborn, created by your passion for truth and justice, essence of good, core of purity, extract of the beauty within.

It’s you…

So that you’d know you’re seen and loved and treasured,

my silly heart, grateful to the fullest, oblivious of your real name, created this childlike metaphor. The one who gives…because all of my dreams are born into your poems.


All credits for the photo to cromaconceptovisual from pixabay.com