7 gestures

I remember few days after those 

7 minutes. 

Just waiting. 

I remember weeks after those 7 minutes. 

Sometimes texting in conversation with emoticons.

A little bit ashamed. A little bit week. A little bit too blonde and too vulnerable. 

A little bit too much, but my heart did not know how to release. 

I remember I wanted to take back those 7 minutes. 

I remember I did not like myself for wanting to take back something I felt. 

I remember I did not understand. 

So much distance in between what I felt and what was to be felt - absence. 

Absence I got used to at one point. 

And then Absence dissappeared. 

And things got almost normal. 

but normal I don't do it seems. 

I would love to do normal, 

but it seems I just don't do. 

I do gestures. 

and I do what I feel. 

So on the first 7th of the year 

a gesture came from my heart. 

But maybe a misplaced gesture

not suited and unwanted

And it brought again absence. 

As for not to be in any way misinterpreted. 

the gesture had no goal. 

It was to say I really see you.

the way I am

I am one way and in an only way

I am brave and vulnerable 

I am enthusiastic and energetic 

but sometimes I open up to you and others few 

and I am tired and less of how I used to be. 

your eyes

looking in your eyes 

and trying to look aside

looking in your eyes and finally being able to look away. 

looking in your eyes and seeing something

I want to embrace with all my heart. 

looking in your eyes 

I will walk away as you want. 

as it should be. 

truth

it is in a corner of a table 

that your truth your whole truth 

is set 

near my truth, my whole truth 

I feel it normal. I fully trust you. 

Although sometimes I don't agree with your style. Almost always agree to your opinion. 

whispers

maybe it is my imagination 

or my intuition that is far fetched 

but I feel you waiting. 

not so sure of what.

but maybe just some thoughts 

some things you decipher in my presence

or just of my presence. 

most probably it is nothing at all 

it is again nothingNess of my whisper

whisper to share

with you. 

nothing spared.

 

no purpose

why do I still feel the need to write my emotions down?

or just to say hi 

or only to say I just left some place early or late.

It has no purpose.

Will learn to stop. 

 

shadows

inside a woman 

a man resides 

her ideal masculine self 

it is towards him 

letters were written 

from 12 to 15th of age

it is towards this man, usually strong and beautiful, smart and kind 

her dreams have opened up like flowers in spring 

and she carries this image with her 

sometimes all her years 

sometimes if she is lucky 

up to the moment when

she feels reality will never be a dream 

and should never be one. 

reality is messy as a real man and woman are, 

but she has the force inside to still smile at that dream, of that little girl. 

independent woman

the cost of being an independent woman

you loose the dependant 

you loose the woman who needs to depend 

you loose the masculine outside your soul 

and you tend to build a masculine inside your body, somewhere to the left of what is your heart. 

the cost is too high 

but the risks of not being independent

history shows is too deep 

for a women that can get in need

for independency. 

dragon pe un umar gol

dragoni zboara din calcule matematice 

dragoni scot flacari si se arunca peste artificii complicate

un singur dragon isi gaseste linistea pe umarul meu gol, alb si plin 

se agata cu ghearele de breteaua sutienului aramiu cu flori de camp si se aduna acolo cu toata fiinta lui

acolo la umbra claviculei usor proeminente 

unde are un ceas sa doarma, sa se gaseasca, sa se adune in el focul nesfarsit

atata timp cat umarul meu gol il primeste

ca si cum l-ar fi asteptat 

demult.

Ash near your cheeks

It is near your right lobe 

or near your cheeks that my thoughts rub 

sometimes they collide with your skin 

but it is ash, as thoughts not encountered turn to.

As they have no other chance. 

Iasi

Seeing Iasi through your eyes 

seeing it again in a festival of colors

Seeing Iasi through your eyes would be a journey I would partake.

your soul on the table

when you look at me,

as you did today 

my determination,

my distance fade

when you look at me 

with your soul on the table 

or maybe again it is just

how I feel it,

that something that resides somewhere in between the lines

comes closer 

to my reality, 

to my body and to my soul. 

your beautiful mind

sometimes I just see your mind 

and it is beautiful. It is one of the smartest minds I have ever encountered. 

sometimes I feel your heart 

and it is huge and it is somehow naive 

sometimes I wonder how others see you 

and why your first instinct is to sit in a different table then your own. 

sometimes I wonder what is it you are looking  for. 

12 men

There was once in the most known story in the world 12 men and many woman, who looked after a vulnerable young man. 

A man of truth and maybe of madness. A man who called himself the Son of God. Not the God of lighting, or the Son of darkness, but the Son of the one and only God, the God that the Hebrews portrayed, the God that only the ones that will be called Christians saw. 

Between the 12th there was a sinner, there was a traitor and there was one that thought he had the faith of the kings of Jerusalem, but he was still full of fear, a person with doubts and failures. He sang the song of treason before the third rooster sang his morning song. 

His name was Petru. The one Pavel looked after. 

waited

I waited for you 

for your presence 

for your smile 

for your voice and for your stories 

I could not connect to anyone else 

In any way. 

Then suddenly a glimpse of reality

nothingness has disappeared into the veil of the afternoon in

waiting.  

The moon reminds me to come out and play. 

Waiting needs to be done with 

It is for another type of woman. 

friends

finally I get to not look for you 

in every corner of my body or of the building inside my skull. 

finally I get to enjoy your presence 

as you mean it. 

smile

seeing you smile 

still makes my heart run faster 

seeing your smile 

makes me feel

makes me want to stay with you for hours 

break from reality

a break from all the corners I used to leave my reality 

my reality where I am very much respected

even spoiled with gifts and with attention 

my reality with my people that for a while in my thoughts I deserted 

and it was a good time to spend abroad 

a good time to find again myself 

my longing 

my predictable reactions 

my unpredictable emotions 

my choices

and the person I cared for 

because something inside drove me.

And I don't regret it as I leave it behind me. 

jungle story

I left this time and space

went away to a jungle in my head

of wondering stories and elephants and tigers that run in my head like they are running a half marathon. 

never followed me 

as it should be 

and I appreciate it 

and I admired you for it 

and it took me too long to start coming out of the story in my head. 

ankle's truth

in my hair flowers of determination are felt 

on my body little points of torsion are imuable and intended 

my ears keep inside little butterflies that give it a go once in a while

my heart is sunbathing in the moons light 

and my ankles have known the truth for a long time now. 

the comitment of my body to entering a new cycle of life 

my hopes for you

my hopes for you are to be happy and rested

for all your loved ones to be healthy and safe

 

my hopes for you are to dig deep inside your spirit to find all that you ask for, from yourself. 

my hopes for you are to feel cherished. 

double measure

things done with double measure 

give me a specific reaction 

a grieving and unjust feeling  

things done without balance

without keeping in mind the same rules

make me a rebel, make me want to through down the judgement and the decision makers. 

mind and heart

my lips are week and kind 

my knees are songs of mermaids 

my hair is too blonde to count

my eyes always tell the truth 

my breast are strong and rebels

my hands are my grandmothers hands

my chin is judgemental and intended.

my shoulders are soft and green 

my mind and my heart are many times in contradiction. 

rain drops

there is a tree in the middle 

of my living room

in which rain drops and tapioca bubbles fly 

i feed this tree with milk and honey

for it is the tree that stays tall

that listens 

never repeats it self and never dies.

rain drops and colored tapioca bubbles are covering the ceiling and my floor is wet. 

transition

can not see the glass ceiling anymore 

transition to reality 

as I seem to need it. 

echoes

echoes of tenderness 

echoes of shared connection 

echoes of something 

imagined

impossible and unreal

but very much desired 

echoes that are lost 

slices of life 

surrender

the closeness I used to feel 

disappears slowly 

into the light of a thousand suns 

that brings my moon into surrender. 

surrender my heart 

to reality and to your implacable will 

surrender to the wind. For the wind will know where to take any feelings left. 

surrender in the light of the moon, 

the only one that shadows my heart.