Time Flies

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This is it.
Time flies.
It’s a sneaky trick, I tell you
Never to capture it
Always elusive, deceptive…
Only the marks on our body
Betray the existence of it.
What a phony thing
To depend on,
To wish for,
To exploit.
Time flies.
This is it.

Damaged Eye

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They claim that the Eye works in reverse.
Does this hold with my damaged I too?
I wonder.
What if I cannot see how the world looks like
But I do see how it really is?
If the I-s around me can see what I cannot
Do they also see what my Eye does?
For long I have been living in the darkness
Like a creature of the night misunderstood,
Scorned for my funny look,
Pitied for my supported walk,
Admired for my determination…
In any way, exceptional among the other I-s
My mind’s Eye could easily look into yours.
What if I had no mirrors to furnish my wall,
No reflection to capture my own I
Or any color to match with yours,
I could always see your beauty.
Now they say I will soon be able
To look at people’s Eyes
And perhaps they will look back at me.
Yet, I care for just one pair of I-s.
I have this blinding fear growing
All the way towards the light;
Fixing on each other’s Eyes
Are we to see the same reflection?

In Your Arms

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You were crying in pain and joy

When we first met

You hugged me awkwardly gently

Not to damage my fragile body

The warmest smile was formed

Upon your sweated reddish face

I didn’t bother to open my eyes

-I knew it was there by instinct-

I sucked you hard and greedily

Whenever I wanted to

You were always there smiling

I waked you up a thousand times

Just to see your smile again

As if I would miss it

As if I could miss my eternal refuge,

The only place I feel secure and calm;

In your arms

Estranged Comfort

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We used to feel absolutely comfortable

On our old single mattress of our youth.

It was the world to us;

Our boat of endless love and dreams

That travelled us miles away

To discover new territories

Of our limits and fancies

While satisfying our basic instincts

With animalistic politeness.

We never felt strangers

Never grinned or yelled at each other

Neither did we cry – except

For moments of pure happiness.

Oh, I miss those days!

Our good past days of youth,

Of fun, of laughter…

I miss our ordinary single bed

Every time I lay my mind down

On this brand new king size bed

Of splitting intimacy into two opposing sides.

The Circle of Love

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When you are ready to quit

Searching for the one

Your clothes don’t fit

Your hopes are done

Along comes Love.

Surprisingly right

Everything seems

Since day and night

Your pockets Love fills

With magic beans.

But then you break up

Like the end of a game

Your love-time is up

You think it’s a shame

Your life is crap and you start

All over again.


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The world is changing constantly

For better or for worse,

Don’t ask me

I am no good judge.

All I feel is a sliding ground

I can hardly stand still

To take a breath.

I am suffocating in this tube

As rapidly as I am moving

Along or against my fatal future.

Now that we have met

This tiny moment of collision

I am dying to ask you

“Where do you stand?”

Perhaps we could stand it all together

Or just move on.


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Sorting out her Majesty’s wardrobe

Was a hard ordeal, a chore she could not avoid.

In she got in a rush to get out of there the sooner and

Get rid of the apparel she has gotten over the years.

A jumble of fine cloths and moments of dazzle

Was soon formed on the wooden worn out floor.

Her former days of glory revived in oblivion

When she stood up against the dusty mirror with

A gown made of silk on her flawless white skin

And a blinding vanity, the emblem of her reign.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of all?”

She uttered in a playful tone and smiled at the reflection

But her peer mirror gave no response

Leaving her unrequited fancy to fade out.

She used her palm to wipe the dust out

The unanimated gown lying down muted

She stepped closer and looked deep at her Majesty’s eyes

Smirking now at the face in front of her.

A crackling sound followed her every step

All the way down the staircase

Her body, as obsolete a burden as the clothes

She had just thrown out the window.


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