We share a distance of two armlenghts
She worries her touch might find home
In the refugee land of my patchy skin
Burried underneath the debris
Of our open eyed dreams.

-

I wonder
If we're all destined to voyage from helplessness of the lap
To the darkness of the caskets
Why be the torch bearer at all?
Why to run with the fire burning bright
Over meadows that will soon become barren
Over townships which will soon become graveyards
Over and over again, throughout our lives
That's not our to have.
I wonder, if we're all meant to be forgotten
Why do we flag moments on shaky grounds
Only to be trampled by tomorrow.

-

Tonight, I will watch the rusty doorknob
As your fingerprints on them fall for forgotten perfumes in my room
And they fade away, together, intertwined
Like unholy witchcraft,
Like songs from Atlantis,
Like our resonating breaths,
Like us.

-

When tomorrow comes
Looking for yesterday’s whereabouts
I will be today’s concealed voice
The echo of Pandora’s Box
Sleep talking about disasters
While dreaming of carnations.

-

I watch you shifting masks trough smiles
Rehearsing glows that curtain your blue skies
Hoping that between your struggling Expelliarmus
And the Aveda Kedavra of your reflection
Somewhere, you will find the blurs of faces you need to see
Before all you can do is walk away, forever

-

My mother once told me that life is a box full of chocolates.
I wonder now if hers was a life I have been tracing.
For I have always loved the true bitterness of chocolates.
For I have always detested the sweet adulteration in it.

-

I hope that your stares stare at me and make my castle crumble that I built to hide my ruins but I also hope that you don't get past my shield to break me down into Horcruxes of my soul that swims in muddy waters of my dampened past, because I only deal in rotten flesh now, not fresh wounds.

-

They say try hard and life will be easy
They say take it easy and life will be hard
Tell me then, do these paths converge?

-

The seawind doesn't sing lullabies anymore
Perhaps the shore has been merging with trenches
And now the depths have engulfed our footsteps for so long
That they have turned into hollow beds
For creatures who never knew what light is.

-

My room is turning into a dollhouse, Mother

And I am become the neatly dressed doll

Someday, I will start believing that

I should close my eyes when someone makes me lie down

And I should stay still as they dissect me, as they play ‘Operation’

Someday, it will be too late for me to be me again.

-