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Showing posts from July, 2016

The red dress with the stars

Her stare shoots like an arrow invincible by time or distance, reaching straight for my heart.
This little girl that wants a red dress.
My weakness. Her dark curly hair and her chubby cheeks and the big, round, curious eyes... and her smile, her big playful grin melts my memory into something warm and sweet.  She is my weakness and my strength. She is my everything. Everything I never wanted to lose.  She is the child with the soft skin and the small hands where a big, bright pink, heart shaped ring sits funny. The child with the white shirts and frilly dresses and the stripey sandal and sock combo.  She gives me reason.  With her strength, and her curiosity, and her smile, her big bright loving smile... Her eyes, always ready to know more... I too, want to know more.  Her love, her gentleness, her polite little comments, and her insistance about her red dress. The red dress with stars on it that she wants so much. With real, very real, sparkly red stars.  I miss her now. Where is she…

The other

She is not the soul behind the letters. She is the face of the moon for some love far away. She is the subject that overwrites anything a wretched author may say.
She is not, the hand that types for she is the smile that strikes in the heart. The smile that is still hers and only hers. For her soul is untouched.
She is not the heart that aches in the weak body of a poet, but the youth that traps you in her joy of life and her big dark eyes and her long black hair shiny like lakes under the stars. With her perfect skin and beautiful complexion, she is not the painter, but the painting of a thousand suns.
She is not a woman grown before her time by the injustice of life. Nor is she a bit unstable, or mad, nor will she put up a fight.
She's just pretty, and happy, and everything I would want to be.
You may have gathered by now, she is not me.
For I am the soul that loves and hurts and writes. The wretched author of some lost poetry. I am not the poem, she is. I'm just the on…

Chasing life

Love. Fate. Time. Time is everything.  Time is a moment of gain or lose, a moment of life or death. Time is the god that punishes an the servant that pleases. I am the product of my time and the tool of myself.  Love. Fate.  It can all change in just a moment. Around me, everything belongs to time. My lovers, past and the love to come. The love for the man and the love for the child, and the love for the life I may or may not have. Books, pens, ink that bleeds on paper from somewhere deep. All that is, and will be burried deep in time.  A moment. Less than a second, to take a decision to forever change the trajectory of time.  I will be making a decision and my decision will be making me and I'll live or die somewhere in history but time is here and time is now...  I need to run. I need to chase. I need to follow, my truth somehow. Love.  Fate.  I will travel through time, and time will travel through me. Time.  Time is everything we will ever be.