Geplaatst ( @f.x.poems ) wil ik nu ook een paar delen op Bokt. Ik ben heel benieuwd wat jullie ervan vinden
This is me, in between four paper thin, dead silent walls
trying to write down words I can not say in a language that's not mine
I'm making attempt after attempt of scribbling down different words that eventually will make a crystal clear story of what I'm feeling and why you make me feel like this
But I will never succeed.
I find the words I want to say in endless lyrics of dramatic lovesongs. I use the words as my clay and mold them into poems that reveal that when I feel, I feel much
When normally my fingers dance over the letters of my keyboard and perform choreographs of words, they hang above my laptop in insecurity of where to go when I tell them to write about you.
As I find my comfort in cheap white wine I hope to find inspiration in that same liquid toxic in stained glasses. And yet I don't.
If I was
on the sweet edge
between life and death
would you love me
then?
I fell
for him
but his hands
weren't ready
to catch me
A tiny snowflake lands
on the tip of my finger
reminds me of you
beautiful, unique
cold
it disappeared way too soon
for it couldn't handle
the heat of my fingers
and that as well
reminds me of you
With you next to me
I am fearless
brave, almost
but when you leave
all I consist of
is fear.
"I will give him emptiness" the mind grunted angrily
"you will not." the hart whispered, hurt.
When I'm with you
I feel drunk
too bad that
drunk nights have
hangover mornings
