lessons in love

And to hell with knowing the best feelings in the world because they're the ones that leave you questioning your existence in the darkness on the night. It is when the love no longer holds you and every part of you aches when you cling on to it as it tries to pull away, that you cannot get off the floor and the world just stares and says, what's so hard in getting along with your day.
Is it day, another one...? For when there's no sleep, there're only long periods of time just continually occurring and passing by and it's impossible to know that a day ended and another started.

And what's worse - you never learn. All you do is fall down holes where no wonderland awaits you and climb out of them, broken and scarred, and keep doing this over and over again.
And how could you blame your lover...? Did they really reach in and grab your heart with bare hands and take it for their own?
Did they leave fingerprints inside?

Or did you love under an agreement? That when failed to have been kept, the other party is entitled to be blamed?
It's you who stood amazed, at every gesture of them. You, who said - take me...
And then when someday you find, they can't love you for reasons just or unjust; can you pull out an agreement...? Can you make sense of how all this works, how one can love and then not somehow...? Have you ever seen a rule-book?
All that's left for you is a twisted, cruel life (that is if you can find the courage to go on) where everyday you have to pick yourself up, wrap your own arms around yourself to keep from falling apart and do the things you see no point in.


The paradox here that exists is, counting all the seemingly impossible, we choose this over letting go...

Hating all that it brings, I cannot help but love loving.

An unfinished dream

The tea will get colder
but really, will it matter?
And something might catch fire
but will we ever get tired
of gazing in so deep
into each other and finding all that we need...?

you know I live for the white winter breath
that is shaped like the sound of 'I love you'.


To some, the window sills are ruined
by those birds that go on cooing
and to me they are completed,
as long as you are willing
to sit beside it with me
and sail on the clouds in the sky we call our sea...


And why do we live in such filled up places,
with strange and frowning faces
of those who breathe up all our air
and step all over our invisible sand castles
but claim they saw them there.


It won't matter if we often don't remember
that if our shoes get untied, our steps will falter;
we may fall and still be unaware
because even the ground doesn't seem to care
anymore.


But suddenly this has turned into a very fake December,
fake but even colder.
the tea is ruined, the sills are dusty,
it doesn't seem like a home to the birds and me
-we only impatiently flutter
because not a hint of you is there...