If I could make this moment endless…

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The sun in my eyes and the lazy wind through my hair…am I in Heaven? The green around me never smelled that fresh,  it rains with white butterflies and I swear this song is for me…hummingbirds singing love. The air has golden sparks and its gentle caresses speak a long forgotten language, that was there since eternity, but I never listened…until now.

I am alive and that’s all I need to know…to start dancing!

I can fly, higher than the birds, brighter than the stars, faithful like the angels of light!

I was given a heart full of love and a life full of dreams!

And a warning…don’t waste them, never again!

Stubborn like an old mule, proud like a colorful peacock, jealous and anxious, I never learned my lessons. And they were many…

The sweet ones…they came and made me smile, but inside me I was bitter!

The brave ones…they revealed my inner strength, but inside me I was shaking!

The loving ones…they filled my heart with light, but inside me I was empty!

So the rage and the fear, the desperation and the pain, the tears and the illusions, monsters, demons, ghosts, evil spirits and so much hurt…it was only natural for me to become a warrior. Just live…I heard the whisper and I prayed not to be too late…

The sun in my eyes and the lazy wind through my hair. And I am dancing and singing, repeating the words like an echo. I love you…That’s all I needed, to feel alive again.

Could this be Heaven? My eyes are embracing this light, my heart rejoice in this love. If there’s any shadow of doubt, if there are any tears, it’s only because…

You can blink now…he said.

You can even close your eyes and rest your weary heart.

Love will still be here.

For eternity.

 

 

 

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When there’s nothing left to say

There was a gift and stories came to life because of it. Tears were shed on white, soft pages as I wrote letters of fire! So many people…

No one took it from me, no one denied me the miracle of becoming one with my poetry! I did it myself, I gave away my gift. Because there comes a time…

When you cannot write about the distance in his eyes. Not without admitting that you’re still in love. And it hurts, it hurts like hell!

When you cannot give a meaning to this loneliness that’s slowly killing you. Not without getting deep into darkness. And darkness hurts, it hurts like crazy!

When you cannot use metaphors to make your world a brighter, prettier place. Not without seeing the devastation within. And devastation hurts, it hurts like nothing you ever felt before!

When you cannot find artistic synonyms to describe this fountain of love you’re hiding in your soul. Ironic, isn’t it? You have enough love to feed the hunger of a loveless life, still you’ll never be enough for the one you love! And irony hurts, it hurts like an open wound!

Finally…when you can’t and you don’t and you won’t admit, even to yourself…

that the time you were given to tell your stories it’s slowly slipping through this heart shaped hourglass. 

The journey is beautiful, magical and way too short. You wanted to embrace life with everything in you, you wanted to love him through every beating of your heart!

Where’s love, where’s life? Not in the stories written with letters of fire. So I gave away my gift…

There was no storm, no thunders to emphasize my words. He just turned to me and calmly embraced my soul:

The gift of writing, just like the gift of love isn’t returnable. For I am The Writer and you are my pencil. For I created the soft, white pages for you to turn words into fire and tears into metaphors.

So don’t be sad, this story writes itself while you live. While you love.

 

Closer than I’ll ever be…

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She’s dancing with the man I love. With my man. And I’m helpless when it comes to love stories, but I’ll write this anyway! From the bottom of my stormy heart.

It started with her sweet melody, alluring him to sing along. First he laughed: “Come on, I’m not a child anymore, silly little songs mean nothing to me!” but then he listened and his heart understood the message.

“Isn’t it sweet, isn’t it gentle and so calming…her voice through the leafs?” 

I tried to stop him, but I was myself a leaf in the wind. My sin was clear and this was my punishment, for I was nothing but a storm in his life! So I had to let him go…

Insidious and sneaky, she whispered allusive words into his ears. Words I should have said, but now they were strange and new, foreign and impossible to pronounce. He looked away, consumed by guilt, fog in his eyes, only the message was crystal clear: “Just for one moment…dance…embrace…just one…and then back to you, back to…us”.

And he never waited for my response! Muted and ignored, I blamed her for the salty taste on my lips. I wanted to hate her, but then again…I never saw him so careless and free…with me.

She touched his face, kissing that little place near his upper lip. He wanted more, he needed to be devoured by this thirst! Their dance became a game of surrender…to desire and lust, to ecstasy and euphoria! It became pain and pleasure, fever and tenderness, torment and heaven! Life itself seemed to take a standing ovation, in the face of this forbidden beatitude!

And I was feeling small and lost, screaming inside me, biting my lips ’till blood and tears were one and the same! ‘Till my scream became a wild flame, calling him back!

“That was great, you should try it too one day! Let’s go home now, dear…”

Is it a crueler torture than to see him defeated? Settling for less than he’s yearning for?

It isn’t…

He came back, but his skin had the taste of her kisses. His hair was ravished by her fingers. His heart was still singing her sweet, gentle melody…

Ever since that day, I cursed the rain! The calm, comforting, relaxing, blissful, warm rain! I hated it with everything in me! For she was closer than I’ll ever be…

…to the man I love.

 

 

 

I’ve found this image at: https://drawinglics.com/s/alone-boy-standing-in-rain-pic.py

I see you…(can you see me?)

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They said it’s a haunted place, so I shouldn’t be here when the moon is lonely over the dark lake. Haunted by melancholy, I saw no danger except for my bitter-sweet nostalgia. The one that leaded my steps so close to the edge…

They said there’s a ghost trying to sneak into the surface of what we call reality, so I should stay away from these deep waters. Ghosting into the abyss of my own desires, I saw no reason to stay on the safe side…

They said it’s a curse that’s drowning the innocents into the darkest of the dark, so I should better avoid the unknown. I laughed. I’m barely awake, drunk and weary into my own ocean of lost dreams, but not even there I would call myself innocent.

It’s my night and they wont stop me, not with their unwanted advises, not by shouting out loud from the other side, not through threats and promises, sweet lies and hurtful truths. There’s nothing they could offer and there’s nothing they could take. Brave or foolish, romantic or depressed, irresponsible or heroic they’ll call me!

Who knows, for I won’t be here anymore.

I see you, Innocent one, come, follow me…

And she smiles seductively, taking me to the place where the lonely moon never shined above.

I see you and I know you, I know where you come from…

Her voice like a melody reminds me of my childhood and I try not to cry, but tears flow freely, disturbing the mirror-clear surface of the dark lake.

Don’t cry, Innocent dove, the gates of your golden cage are wide open…

She promises freedom and painless dreams and I wish…oh, how I wish I could believe her!

But I’m far from being innocent.

And my darkness is far from being peaceful.

I am expected to return, back to life, back to light. One day…

So I must go and she must cry…

For she was real and I was her ghost…for much too long.

 

 

 

The source of the image: http://www.pinsdaddy.com/ghost-haunted-lakes_Mt1zgLcu3JvPBcGr8dCkTDSH5OilmT9SIgFPcmzXCTs/

Memories from the future

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One morning, our sky will be a thousand nuances happier…

With serenades of love and sweet butterfly kisses on your bright eyes…

I’ll embrace your weary heart and you’ll cry a rainbow of feelings,

That  morning when you’ll call me “angel”.

My brave soldier, trying to save what’s left of this castle…

That’s what you were, and you’ll always be,

Until that morning when I’ll take your hand to guide you

To the keeper of my sacred secret:

The walls are meant to fall down!

That morning when you’ll call me “love”.

And soon after you’ll rise above the ashes,

So briefly caught by the flickering lights of hope,

You’ll find the joy of breaking the chains of time!

You will grow wings from our precious moments,

That morning when you’ll call me “life”.

And these memories from future

Are your only mission, my love!

To make them real for you and me, my life!

I know the price and I’m not afraid, my angel!

To become a memory myself…

 

 

The castle built on shifting sands

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I will always remember that winter…Freezing cold outside, but warmth in our hearts, fire in our eyes…brighter, stronger than the sun itself! Do you remember?

I came home that morning, after shopping for Christmas, my cheeks were two red apples and my lips had the taste of strawberries, that’s what you said. Do you remember?

I looked around me and it was so beautiful! Toys on the floor, unpacked gift boxes, two different pairs of gloves, matched completely wrong. Our home! Do you remember?

I put my arms around you and your beard scratched my skin. I was giggling, pushing you with both of my arms, in a playful fight, until you were giving up and that’s when I was pulling you closer. “I’ll let you win, just don’t let go”  – Do you remember?

I spend days and nights playing. A big child, happy and innocent, unaware of what’s waiting around the corner. My prince and my castle, it was all about love! You used to joke about my self-centered definition of happiness, but you were happy too, I saw it in your eyes! Do you remember?

Six years of shifting sands and devastating storms.

Six winters of trying to forget what we had, so the pain of losing it could somehow pass.

Pills. Rituals. Suicidal thoughts. Virtual worlds. Dissociation. Self-harm. Six ways of destroying myself, in a desperate attempt to destroy this void you created inside me.

DO YOU REMEMBER?

My perfect winter, with Christmas carols and ginger bread. My last winter. My lasts memories about love. I can’t remember anything that happened after.

The tragedy isn’t the lack of love. Not even the absence of joy. Nor the lonely nights when we sleep on a river of tears. It’s in your eyes…

…the eyes that never truly saw me burning for them.

Lost in shifting sands, my castle is slowly sinking. It doesn’t hurt, love, not anymore.

For I’m not here anymore…

 

 

 

 

If I were a writer…

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If I were a dreamer, we would dance on the wings of butterflies, free and unbound, with synchronized steps and intertwined hearts…

If I were a lover, I would embrace your body and soul in sweet flames of passion, until you’d burn for me only…

If I were a painter, I would draw tears of joy on your face, an everlasting smile that only becomes brighter with the daylight…

And love, oh, my love…

This darkness would be sweet light!

If I knew poetry, my rhymes and rhythms would be pure echoes of heaven, repeating your name in every line…

If I knew magic, I would make you eternal and death would never tear us apart!

If I knew English…or Polish…or Chinese…or…Latvian…I would never waste my talent in silly words. I would spell it correctly. I love you! That’s how I would say it…

But love, oh, my love…

I only learned to say “I miss you…” in every language of this Universe…!

If I could dance slowly and tenderly for you…with you…then my body language would speak thousand words of love and desire, capturing your eyes and your soul in one embrace…

If I could believe in fairy-tales, like I used to, before…before the world became too real for me to dream about it…then I’d whisper sweet prayers in my lonely hours…and you would be here…

If I could fly, my darling…I would be your angel, yours only…and no fire of hell would ever touch you because our love would be sacred…

Only that…love, oh, my love…

I’m not even a writer…

But if I were…and if I knew…and if I could…

I would love you eternally! In poems, metaphors, rhymes and stories. In novels, fairy-tales, scripts and volumes. Using well written phrases, with a perfect grammar and a spectacular spelling.

Why do you smile?

Isn’t it a tragedy?

No? Is it miraculous?

That I am only…

The woman who loves you more than life itself.

The only hero left…

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The little boy was sitting on the steps of the church, visibly hurt. Visibly in pain, even if his wounds were only bleeding deep inside the very core of his heart. Trying so hard to be angry instead of being sad.

Because boys don’t cry.

Never.

Not even when love is replaced with threats and manipulative promises.

So, when I took his hand in mine, he pulled away. With dust on his palms and face, with a recent scar, hidden behind his curtain of careless hair, he decided to take this mask and make it his own nature. Feeding the hurt with offensive words. Pushing away any attempt to melt his wild desperation.

Because boys don’t need hugs.

Never.

Not even when silence and solitude are strongly embracing their souls.

In simple words, spoken harshly and brief, he said he’s not interested. Faith. He spoke the word with hate. But he confessed the crime, expecting a punishment. Expecting rejection, yelling, abuse, fear. Hatred.

“Yes, I did it! I’m the one who broke the crucifix! Because He’s no longer my friend! And I wanted Him to feel the way I’m feeling.”

I asked him about his feelings, but he started to laugh.

Because boys don’t talk about their emotions.

Never.

Not even when it’s almost too late.

I knew that words are not enough for him. Even if they were, I still wouldn’t know what to say. I’m not that good with words. He wasn’t going to accept me, my words, my hugs, my care. So I just sit there, with him, in silence. On the stairs of the church. But the waiting game was never my favorite.

And God knew that.

So he sent us a gentle rain, through golden rays and chirping birds. Through tears and broken hearts. And, at some point, the little boy looked at me with hope. And we spoke about super heroes and their magical powers.

“What’s the point? They’re only in our imagination.”

“Well, I know for sure that one of them is real.”

“Yeah, right. Me. The only hero left…”

He wiped away his tears and headed home. To make the right choices, just like heroes do. To save his family and to restore love and protection as unbreakable laws. To rediscover his faith. Like every modern hero would. Like every true man should.

And if some day, any day, the hurt little boy inside his heart will destroy another crucifix, that’s okay too. He’ll surely find forgiveness and love, grace and blessing. As long as he believes.

 

 

Dedicated to the heroes disguised in black sheep.

 

 

 

The type of beauty I call Supreme…

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It started with a burning violin that kept playing its notes in and beyond death. We are more than flesh and bones so we need to love deeper. And this sweet song it’s still in my ears even if my every love note is burned and bruised.

You’re not powerless, he told me when my mourns reached the limits of faith and hope. My burning violin turned into ashes and my voice silenced by the dark smoke. We are more than shadows and our prayers are more than bitter pleads for life!

I was scared, so scared for both of us! When there’s no music, how will love grow? But my soul is more than a frail flower fading away in an endless void. So it’s worth fighting for! He promised to wait for me, even if it takes a lifetime. For me to find my way home.

And while I struggled, trembled, screamed and agonized in the flames of my burning violin, he took the ashes and buried them in sacred ground. And he just knelt and kissed the traces of my steps. But oh, in my blindness, I was still dancing wild dances, playing with words and destinies.

He forgave me for always crying and always lying. For running away and breaking walls, boundaries, bridges and hearts! For tearing pages and for scratching walls with bare hands, until my skin was bleeding and his voice was drowning in tears.

And there was never a storm so wild like the one in my heart! And I never truly learned how to dance through thunders and lightnings! Am I enough? Am I still beautiful? Am I yours? Will I ever be…

He was sad when he took my hand, leading me to the place where the ashes of my burning violin were peacefully resting. He was tired and lonely. He’s only human and this love was poison and venom. He was dying…

Is this what you’ve been searching?

And the white rose shined even brighter in my hands.

How? And why? And when…But he silenced my lips and sealed the secret for eternity.

While you were dancing your wild dances…

While you were shouting your helpless anger to the skies above…

While you broke walls and boundaries, hearts and bridges…

This flower grew from the ashes of your burning violin. And I was blessed to nurture it with my tears. For you, my love.

I knelt in front of the bright white rose. I kissed the sacred ground and the eyes that nurtured the tiny seed of hope. The eyes that gave away their light, just to find me in my darkness…I promised to heal his blindness, so he could finally see the power of this reborn song of life. The renewed promise needed a name…

I called it Beautiful. I called it Supreme. I called it LOVE.

 

 

Just like in movies…

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She gently placed her hand on his chest. “I want to do it just like in movies.” Then, without a warning, her arms were around his neck, her head resting tenderly on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a little confused, a little amused…and it was enough for her cheeks to turn into red flames.

“I’m…I’m hugging you!” she whispered, terrified of being ridiculous. But he approved and even seemed to like her little gesture. So she believed it’s the right thing to do.

The sea in the sunset was breathtaking so she just wanted more.

“Don’t let go…just hold me like you did before, just a few minutes, that’s all I need to learn…”

“To learn?”

He was holding her, just like in movies, stroking her golden hair, caressing her perfumed skin. And she trembled at the thought that she may forget…

“I want to learn this by heart! Every sensation, every color. The sand on my feet and the sound of the waves. I want to have it here, with me, within me…”

He smiled, a little sad, a little overwhelmed. The risk of forgetting was never a serious threat, but with her, for her…he would be frightened too…

“What I love the most about you is your kindness, your gentleness and your way of giving hope to the hopeless.”

His words were a painful reminder of the way she used to be. And, regardless of every wrong step they took, just for here and now, she desperately needed to re-define herself.

As the girl who ran barefoot to the sea…

As the happy child who used to love every teddy-bear in every store…

As the free spirit who ignored the rules, just to be there, for the less fortunate ones.

“If I could turn back time” -just like in movies- to go back to the place of love. To turn this heart shaped stone into a river of healing tears, I swear they would be all yours…”

He ignored her, a little worried of her aggravating depression, a little annoyed of her ever-lasting complains.

So she remained silent.

“I have something to confess and I need you to look into my eyes while I’m saying the words. Promise me you wont be cruel…”

“Cruel, me??? When was I ever cruel to you or anyone?”

“When you laugh of me and you ignore my stories, when you pretend not to see, not to feel…”

“Okay, just say it as it is. The confession, please.”

She took a deep breath.

“I have to tell you what I should have told you long ago. Ever since our first embrace, remember? Ever since I wanted to learn by heart the sunset and its sensations. Ever since I turned my heart into a stone…”

“Just say it, for heaven’s sake!” he shouted, a little frightened, a little angry.

I’m an alien, okay?! That’s why I never knew how to hug, how to feel, how to be. I’m an alien, in love with you, a man from this earth, and I’m struggling to act like a human being!

Her tears, like golden lights, turned into emeralds and diamonds. He turned his back, leaving her hopeless, helpless and desperate.

And then, just like in movies, a miracle happened. He turned and cupped her face.

“I want you to stop struggling and start loving me. For I am an alien too.”

That’s when she saw him for who he truly was. A stranger among strangers. That’s when she decided to love all the weird little things that the others called “unacceptable”.

And they lived happily ever after…

 

So, for all the aliens out there, please don’t turn your hearts into stones. There’s love and hope waiting for you with open arms. Somewhere, by the sea shore…

 

 

 

The source of the image: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/110549365833251739/?lp=true