Stranded

A distant place
you led me here
so full of grace
you left me here
enchanted me
and my old heart
with every bit
and every part
of yours that you
have left in mine
but without you
it cannot shine
the way it did
when you were mine
or were you, really?
I don’t know
but apart from you
I cannot grow
so heaven, hell
please come and
show my soul a way
to be your home,
my everything
to let me in and
I will help you
spread your wings
and see once more
that precious smile
so maybe one day
you can fly.

Snowstorm

I guess somewhere
between heaven and hell
there is spot that is made
just for me, right between
light and dark, hot and cold
soft and hard, happy and sad
summer and winter, though
both do have their benefits
and I can’t even tell what
exactly I’m feeling anymore
somewhere in the middle of
deep black and bright white,
fire and ice, cats and mice
love and the fucking void
winking at me from afar
while you’re the dying star
that’s keeps me afloat,
levitating in a firework
of silence and whispers
I can’t quite understand
but I am desperately
trying to catch like
fireflies in a
snowstorm.

 

Falling Snow by Düşen Kar

3 a.m

Our hearts flickered
and for a little while
I think I saw something
brief like a blown kiss
I felt a bit of your light
like a shard of heaven
a tiny speck of paradise
here on this lone world
while I’m kept awake
once more by the hugs
we have never shared,
your lips that never
touched mine and
my warm, frozen love
that will always try to
find it’s way to your
patched up heart to
pick up the pieces
and put them back
together, carefully
so maybe one day
your eyes can shine
again, just a little
like they did
that night.

 

I promise

I really believed in
what I thought I knew
before I blinked and
somehow found you.
My heart was mine
before your smiles
came and stole it from
five thousand miles
and I really was sure
I knew how to breathe
when your waves
crashed down on me
quietly from beneath.
I hoped that I could
try to fall asleep
but knowing you exist
was just way too deep
so I surrendered myself
to your silent light
because not falling in love
has been a hopeless fight
even someone like me
just had no chance to win.
And if you want to fall
into my arms some day
I promise I’ll catch you
I promise I’ll stay.

 

Miracles

There are things no less but magic,

they’re amazing – sometimes tragic

like the spell you’ve cast upon my lone

unsuspecting heart, knitting it into your

pictures, sneaky art and before I knew

I have been captured, my mind was raptured

when, almost effortless, you took my raging fires

and untamed desires, my hungry dragons,

and armies of thoughts under a restless king,

you gave them a place to stay – in every letter

of your damn name and every sparkle

of your pretty eyes and the greatest spell

that I managed to cast was maybe one smile

or another that I could conjure on your lips

before I ran out of magic.

 

(song is unrelated, I just f*ing love it.)

Curselifter

They’ve said a storm was coming
and I didn’t believe it until it
gripped me, violently tearing,
raging in my heart and it
stripped me and my mind from
any trace of peace it ever held
and it found me in the flames
of heaven and in hells warm
serenity, capturing my sanity
until I burned in it’s very flames
rising from ashes no more the
same and before I saw your face
I felt your light, before I felt
your hug I have seen your grace
and before the rain stopped
you have calmed the storms
leaving me with nothing
but questions that my heart
already holds the answers to,
whispering them in a language
I have not yet understood.

Heart of the storm by Maurice Sapiro

The dawn traveller

There is a gate no one speaks of

in this valley of spirits,

a place full of sound and colors

which sometimes fade to grey for some

and deafening silence numbs all light

and love, leaving her with a key

forbidden to use, her name engraved

on its blade and that gate at the other

end of the tunnel calling her softly

for a final trip, a short one.

She shall come unaccompanied

and bring no luggage but

a smile for the ferryman 

for he is the only one who

won’t judge her tears for using

the key to the gate that has never

been locked in the first place.

 

 

The River Stour by Andrew Hewkin