graceful agony

*1*

i am miserably lonely.
some people have the ability
to be lonely in a careless,
or maybe even graceful way,
but i rarely manage.

my roads are winding. dark. misleading.
i’ve been waiting for a very long time now,
a very very long time longer than ever,
but every little adding moment
i managed to convince myself
that it was worth it
as there was no other way.

*2*

like those

fleeting moments

when the

glittering shards

of a

shattered mirror

descend

towards the

sleeping earth

they

are the

slow-motion

whispers

of

graceful

agony

i own the most wonderful t-shirt in the world

i own the most wonderful t-shirt in the world

my
hypnotic
orange t-shirt
with leopards and creatures and famous
ladies dressed in star-capped elegance

vibrates
like
shiny happy
black-and-white beetles
revolving beneath the diamond sunshine

revolving
and
revolving
and
revolving dizzily
alongside pretty purple bags
lugged merrily around the world

a gasp

–a gasp–

the feathers
of faint memories
tickle-tickle the front door of her sensitive heart

–a glance–

they toss
the twinkling-twinkling candle within
her fragile house of cards
displaced

patterned cards precariously
climbing one by one by one again
a fall
and another climb

–a laugh–

she can hear their flickering-flickering giggle
she can feel their leaping giddiness

and hesitantly lets them in her
door
so they may jump and play
and
pretend
and
portray

a past worth reliving

that look, i will never forget | words by goldfish_

That look, i will never forget. Was it the trace of time and emotion already?
The embodiment of inhuman or the most human power?
On her face, the beautiful unspoilt face of a three-year old?
On her face, what did i discover?
Will i ever find her in the impossible labyrinth of human personality,
in the backwaters of indescribable, concealed pain,
never realised, never spoken of?
Will i ever be able to find her in that heap of blurry photographs
signs
memories
of a childhood more beautiful
a heart more open
than i ever
dared to imagine.

anxious
eyes darting

lips soothed by
trembling fingers

she curls
herself into a
little blue-eyed ball

bouncing

sunlight softly unfurls
its warm blanket
upon her frail
shoulder

london calling

she hopes it embraces her
as vividly as its
postcards

i have fairy lights

i have
fairy lights

silent fireflies
fluttering
hovering
like
misty
mystical
snowflakes

tiny
dancing
angels

comforting
me

humming
to me

giving
me
permission
to be

intoxicated
in
imagination

today
exactly nineteen years old– not old
behind the glass

today
nineteen fishes of gold– not gold
within the bowl

nineteen pairs of shoes bought and sold
nineteen slices of strawberries so bold
nineteen tears left in the cold

nineteen secrets untold
don’t tell

tomorrow
nineteen– not exactly nineteen

don’t fold
don’t fold