first feather

on your back 

uncolored nails tickle a feather   

with many shades 

The truth

that never surrenders, knows no limits, the scary truth, the one that gets you to the sides of society, the truth that takes no blame and has no morals. 

the feather is soft and colourful, many times you feel it just like in a dream, it draws the colours of hope 

Hope 

red and light blue, sometimes golden and magenta, the colors of an experience to live only once in life, inbetween the trees of existence

the feather does not forget about desire 

Desire 

Desire to be seen, fully and utterly seen

desire to spend time, desire to caress, desire to plunge inside the bluest waters ever seen, those of your soul 

and sometimes the feather gets broken by the wind of reality 

Reality 

there is no future for truth, hope, or desire, there is only a now.

Now

The feather stopped on the tremble of your back 

Now does not seem to be enough. 

scarf

in the rain i will confess my tears

in the rain i will seize my hope

rain drop after rain drop 

my heart will wear a small scarf

to protect what needs healing

my mind is full of reasons 

to make me run in the rain.

October brackets

another october 

I realised my being 

can never be the same as in july

my soul became on brackets,

as intense and full this feeling

as it could be. 

this october, 

try to erase the brackets 

day by day. 

stars light

stars that argue before their God

am I real, or am I just sun dusk? 

stars that know my soul 

and sometimes bathe in it 

just to make it lighter 

stars that know their worth

and mine, never questioning it. 

stars that witness my duality 

my guilt and my passion

they sometimes smile

a woman made out of stars light, 

ours 

they say inbetween themselves.

my regret

goodbye I had hoped I would earn with no regrets

but was not possible 

actions can not be erased in the sand 

actions that offend, or that try to force 

no matter the reason, or the need behind 

no matter if I said sorry, no matter if I felt it 

still I regret it and most probably always will. 

esarfa

o esarfa mi se aseaza pe umeri

peste esarfa o tristete ca un kettlebell 

mult prea greu de ridicat.

o tristete pe care am evitat-o 

cu prea mult scris, 

cu un sens doar de mine inteles

o tristete pe care am tot dus-o la fundul paharului de cola cu rom 

dintr-o seara de toamna 

intr-un oras strain, 

in care te chemam inca, 

in care te asteptam inca. 

mi-ar fi placut ca peste esarfa mea sa se asterne furie, dar nu. 

e tristete si un inceput de dor. 

escaped words

so many words escaped my being 

to reach you 

shared my feelings, my truth and my reality through them

never expected reciprocity 

but never expected you not to be able to look inside my eyes ever again.