Time of death.



         At least I know how I want to die. The peaceful sky will be having the color of midnight blue; a star here and there; not too many; enough to shine wonderfully around the moon. The waves will be hitting the shore quite hardly but in the deep; the sable line will be clear and still. The roundness of the moon will be perfect; its’ hues will have a scarlet color; bloody but still dusty grey. Across the beach no soul will be whipping beside me. The horizon will seem endless and I will be greeting it. Opposite to the endless sea,  at the exit from the beach, a wooden bar will be still lightened. No soul will ponder on the porch. The unclean dishes on top of the sink will torture my soul. I will not leave unfinished business behind. The tick-tocking of the clock may feel exasperating but not so much as I will know it will be the last I am going to hear it. There is a half empty glass of whiskey on the corner of a table. I observed that night and only, the brunette woman sitting there. She would leave the same half empty glass every night, I would take it and toss it. That night I will not. I will ran my fingers over the shapes of that glass, sink one inside, rub it on my lips and flash it inside me. It will burn but I am sure I will not mind. The void will be filled with a song from the radio. Elliott Smith will be playing his favourite song, something about us between the bars. I will take that emptied glass and walk on the shore holding it. At some point, I will fill it with the ocean’s water and  when I am ready, I will drink up my unfulfilled  dreams. Their poisonous effect will be the end of me; there, on that beach, shaded by the midnight blue sky. The clock on the wall of the bar will stop tick-tocking. Time of death: 02:30 a.m. .
I woke up in the afterlife and all I did ever since was wonder; what if I had no unfulfilled dreams? Would that water still poison me? That was my hell. I was tortured by that idea, of never finding out; what if I had done all that I wanted? No remorse, no going back.


Memories tied with ribbon.


    I plucked my index finger and I felt nothing. I had a feeling of numbness, as if someone injected me with morphine. My mind though was flicking ashes of some old memories, unwrapping them like they were tied with ribbon, then taking one by one out of their boxes and putting them side by side. After a couple of minutes, they were all put in pain sequence, firstly the ones that hurt most and then the less worrisome. Apparently, the alcohol was doing its’ job so I had to hurry before its’ effect will be gone. My memories sat on a continuous strip and my mind, as a machine, did the processing. Suddenly, it stopped. I heard a loud command coming from underneath, somewhere on the left part of my chest. My heart screamed.

     She wasn’t prepared for such a savage experimentation on her needs. I plucked my little finger this time and it felt as if plucking my soul. Then I remembered the words. ”You don’t know what you want.” For a second or maybe more, I wondered if that predication was true. Obviously it wasn’t. I laugh at myself when saying this but maybe you will understand. How can I pronounce myself to a person that wishes to become part of my life and tell him that what I truly want is completely different? Others will judge me for not telling him the truth. Can I be excused for not choosing to be cruel with another human soul?
     The ribbon was still untied, the boxes empty and my memories aligned like soldiers prepared for inspection. My heart was still quarreling with my mind, both having my soul sitting on a bench, staring at them desperately and deeply hoping that my heart will win. So she did. The alcohol tormented no more my veins and I was back to my senses. How was that really? Don’t ask me. I just chose to let my heart continue what she was already doing. Loving. She never stopped. Why would I make her stop now?

Reflections of a broken heart.



The lights faded away in the darkness that the moon preserved by hiding behind the navy clouds. The driver was shady, filled with some kind of anxiety or distress that I avoided to ask about. Perhaps the answer would not serve my appetite so I preferred my own exigent thoughts. The moments of happiness that I felt were less than any other emotion that dominated in my soul. But don’t take me wrong gentlemen, I was not unhappy or anxious like him. On the contrary, I felt ecstatically good. The road continued its’ curvy way. Every now and then it filled me with fear but that was too unimportant to even bother concentrating on it. The blurry thoughts stopped while encountering a specific face which pondered through me like a hurricane. Catastrophic or not, I had him in my mind once again, feeling the same sweet disturbance as always. And then, there was the other one, a she wolf. What did she want? Why again? Our conversation stressed me. I did not know whether she meant good or evil. Then the night became lighter as the moon showed her darling shadow and I was back on my reality. The driver’s hand hugged my knee while his lips were imploring for one more kiss. I would not be rude. Eventually I had to move on even if I didn’t want to, because every kiss I served him was too unrealistic for that cruel reality I got myself into.
I wonder what tonight will bring upon me. The cold whether hurts me and the moon is once again hidden. All I can see is a reflection of my insecure lying self which wishes to see those feverish eyes that misses.

A night on the shore.



You are spending the night on my sheets. My skin inhaled your perfume’s intense flavour of vanilla and sand. The window of the wooden cottage had opened, letting the sparkles of the salty ocean spread in the air. An itching August breeze twisted the cells on your skin. A sudden fever burnt my insides, so sweetly. You embraced my back, wrapping your hands around my belly, gently but tightly. I felt my bone tissue tensing, like an iceberg set on fire. I could not anticipate the near future. My mind could only concentrate on that moment, that melting of my abdominal muscles. Higher, my collar bones loaded with fear and happiness. My blood vessels tightened sweetly.
An amazing view of the sun fading away was miraculously stretching before my eyes. I wasn’t able to see yours behind me but I could feel their sparkles and greyish shades. Your body evoked the usual warmth and tenderness. It felt like home. The wooden cottage on the shore was our home and your body was my bed. It was the kind of comfort that I would never want to lose. It filled me with love and nonsensical happiness.
The sun set and you would spend the night on my sheets. I would not ask for more than that.

”Do you love him? ”


The drunk man asked me this and I stood as still as a tree wondering…”Do you love him?”

Dear stranger,
I do not. Perhaps what I am saying seems a little, or a lot, nonsensical but you asked for my sincere answer and you should know that a sincere answer is what I am giving to you. I do not love him. I find it easy to admit or agree to such a thing and the reason why is simpler than you could ever percept. Whatever this feeling that cursed me is, it goes deeper than love. Since humans haven’t found a word for that yet or we may never find, I won’t let myself indulged into its’ charm. For love I have felt and it was not like this. It was indeed powerful, every emotion was triggered by it, but now, now it’s more than that. Now, the infinity of my feelings transfixes my body and has turned my feelings into a hunting warren. A warren of desire, seduction, empathy, vivacious feelings, feelings that if you ask me; I could even live for as eternity lies at dawn.
Maybe I should let you know, hoping you would understand my questioning this ”love” you want to name, that I have become a feathery person, sometimes even feeble. I am asking you please not to judge me or try to convince me that I should reconsider my statements, all because I will not. I am not gloomy. Do not ever understand that. I am as flippant as the hays of the sun on the sunup. You should see my expression now. A sought just escaped my lips, such a sweet and perky sought! It’s tingling my heart; this image of a demi-verge person who craves for me as I crave for him every night. This rapture or cannibalistic need of flesh, which many of us may not understand, it’s provoking me a deep sensation of amour. I do not say love dear stranger. Mark that. I am biting my lower lip at the very moment and the hotness has made my skin sweat. My humid lips have a salty taste of sweat. The hot breeze, the closed window, the feeble night, they all remind me of him. They all make me crave him even more, even sweeter. How can I make it understandable to you dear stranger?
In a parallel reality, where he exists only for me, or we might say that he is here for me, he touches my lower lip, undressing it from its’ salty taste with his own big softy lips. I fear writing to you the rest of the details…

On another long parallel line, runs my heart competing to all the above or helping them get to infinity. I do not know what it actually does but I feel it running. It has become a beast, a warrior among Cyclops. I shall not lie, I do feel deep feelings for him. As I said at the beginning, it is all about some other inexplicable feeling that has not been named yet because there is no greater than that. Writing the last sentence, perhaps I stupefy my own self for writing about ‘love’ as the greatest of all, but you should know, I am not. All I want you to do, is understand the difference.
After so many words, I’m letting you know, that at this very moment I feel a gap in my heart. It is like the earth, the soil, has broken up into two pieces letting an abyss of darkness in the middle. Do not ask me why I am feeling this way. I shall not answer.

Last night’s dream.


     I wish I was aware of your eyes in last night’s dream but I wasn’t. Your lips seduced me, submerging myself into them. Your mocking smile bewildered me. You were an intriguing man, self-asserted and your hands were touching my body mandatory. I was obliged to obey to all your exertions. In the background I remember nothing but darkness. For some strange reason there was nothing but a vast black shadow. My body felt every seething sensation while my subconscious ventured around your bare smile. I have never seen you that way. I was filled with idiocy and vulnerability. On the contrary, you were chirpy and poignant. I am struggling to recall every detail but my mind is not helping me. I am lost in the vacuum of my own thoughts and desires. The potency of my unwillingness to remember the dream is locking me up in a roost of suspicions. Perhaps I should stop wincing myself with this kind of thoughts and let the simulacrum of happiness have control over me. 
I am letting myself dream one more time of your eyes. Nothing is changed but still; nothing remains the same.

Lightning moon.


     In the misfortune of summer I found an abyss in your heart. The soil wasn’t dry anymore. My soul wasn’t wounded. I gasp on the thought and continue pursuing my goal as your love is a motivation for my dreams. In the mist of August I found the lost child in me. In the still of the night I found your pure eyes shining bright and conquering my heart. Electric blues and radiant violets. You were that. You are that. You are an electric blue shadow of happiness and pain. In moments of unawareness, I panic on the thought of losing you. I stutter your name. Then I fill my lungs with the memories you gave me and hope rises like the sun at dawn. I misinterpret the dreams and tire myself with worries. Minutes after I smile. I am wondering how can you make me such an unstable person. You change me. 
     In the cold of winter I missed your body. I thrilled for your warm blood. I was craving for your soul. Now that the breeze of June is flirting with the cells of my skin, I feel an intense desire to kiss your lips. I dream of your colours. I dream of your electric blues and radiant violets. 
     The night is a friend again. I am hugged and lucky to be accompanied by such a beauty. It whispers me that you hug your pillow and turn on the left side of your bed. I am told that you are dreaming of waves and exotic places. I am delighted of the stories. People can be thrilling creatures when their subconscious runs wild. 



     I cannot conceive what is not mine to conceive. 

     I cannot conceive a love that never spread on my sheets. 
     I cannot conceive why the wind shivers in fear in front of the sun.
  I can though conceive why my veins are burning. I feel the flames surrendering my body, drying me. I felt your presence next to my heart; your heart’s presence. I felt a sweet rapture, a dulcet desire to unravel myself in front of you. Your soul was naked and the beauty of it undressed mine as well. I could conceive the way our hearts made love but still, I couldn’t explain why the pain was sweet; why my flames were needing, somehow feeding the part of me that misses you.
    I can also conceive why the moon loved me last night. She whispered to me ‘I love you’. At first I thought she will bring me pain but later on, I saw her smiling. She smiled in secret, behind the mask of sorrows. However, the shadow of darkness; nobody can define. Her shadow. Her darkness. Her definition. 
     We cannot conceive what is not ours to conceive.
     We cannot conceive the radiance on her slippery skin. We cannot conceive the love she spreads around. We cannot conceive it because we are not made to conceive anything. We are made to be inconceivable creatures who struggle to solve the enigma of existence and that’s how I loved you. In secret, inconceivably, without asking why. 

Universal bonding.


It’s almost dawn and the moon stretches her body. Her majesty is ready to close her eyes . Sometimes I wonder if she’s hurting when the sun elaborates heat upon her; but then I answer to myself; she’s not. There is a cosmic bond between them, kept alive by their commitment to one another and the light they both sustain. I have myself seen the moon hurt by her conqueror; she’s hidden. The curve on the sky was thin and vulnerable. She was hurting and he was still fighting his own flames. The female was exposing herself; letting her pain out. He wasn’t. He was silent and revengeful. Everybody felt his bloody burning hays. He felt guilty but nothing could be done. He waited and waited. Every dusk and dawn she was becoming someone else. He changed her. If you wonder how I know; believe me; I just do. Time didn’t matter to none of them. He knew she will always be by his side; she knew he could not abandon the universe. She never knew though if he will ever abandon her. The misfortune of not knowing suffocated her. I know for I have seen it. There are nights when her body is shadowed by darkness. There are nights when her children fall down to earth. I know she is hurting when the line on the area of her body is not shining.
I have always suspected though that his majesty is also hurting when she does. I have seen that too; for some nights he is not leaving the sky early. He is trying to find the time to rule with her the night. He forgets that the night was a present given only to her; as she forgets, the light of the day is owned only by him.
Beyond all though, the most wonderful of all moments is the one he loves her. It does not happen often but her majesty is becoming his. Her colour blurs, becomes of carmine shades and bloody hays. Everyone should admire the night they are making love to each other. They are bonding infinitely at dawn spreading love and emerald sparks of happiness among all living creatures. I know because I have seen it. The tiny grasshopper opened his eyes and flickered to the cricket while it sang a melodic song of morning love. I saw sparkling eyes and I did not fear; the mother deer woke up her husband to run miles together.
I had him beside me. We both saw the lovemaking of the moon and the sun. We were both infinite along them.

Sable Line.


”Give it to me my love. Give me the fire that burns your soul and let it burn mine as well. I shall take this burden away from you and make it mine; for my love is such a long line whose end is never to be seen. I saw the fire burning your dreams and I wished for it to conquer mine. I shall not live in peace if your heart is hurting. My eyes long for your beautiful face to see; and it’s such a steep pain knowing our hands cannot yet touch. I’ve channeled the stars to guide your way on the darkest nights and my mother, the moon, to keep your dreams safe; safe from the demons that pursue your destruction. I wish for your kiss every night and a star falls down to the ground because it cannot grant me this profound wish. For every question I ask; a bright star falls without answering my question. Then, I ask my mother; she says nothing but her majesty is still shining in the sable sky. There is not sweetest silence than hers. That silence I love the most of all words that any language has; for her wordless preposition is giving me air to breathe and hope to live. Mine and dearest love, I am in search of your spirit among all living creatures; and by the time I find it I confess my love to it; hoping and praying that you’ll feel it inside your veins once my heart pronounces the words.”

#An Intervention. #Fiction#


Unfinished business. He always was that. This time though it’s different. This time it wouldn’t be right for us to ever be together. We’ve been banned and cursed by Aphrodite and it seems right. We’ve always been impossible and unrealistic. So it ended, quickly and roughly, but it had to.


My dreams confirm me that I’m a destroyed person, mentally ill, who’s been broken and broken all over again in the last three years. Time messed me up and I’ve become a shaded woman, lost in the emptiness of my soul, not being able to save myself.

            The water running on my skin was one soul with my tears and I felt no difference between them. Everything was the same; the grass was the same; the stars were the same and the light of the day was the same. Only she was different. Every night the moon filled little by little with my dreams till it became whole. Every time that happened, I used to feel his touch but the other day, it died again inside me. Once a month I can feel it on every inch of my body, ripping my heart off my chest and drowning me. The next day I feel nothing. I suffocate from time to time but then I inhale deeply and exhale hard. Two seconds later, I feel nothing again. It’s not difficult once you get used to it; that’s why I can call myself crazy.lf from the curse of the universe. I’ve forgotten the definition of piece as my mind has none and my heart is no longer free. It has been taken hostage in somebody’s hands and drained of blood. It’s steep, dry and dark now. The stiffness makes me hurt people and I don’t deserve any of the love I’m given, if I am given any. I must unconditionally accept it and get used to living in such pain for the rest of my days. I shall never ask to be freed as my conqueror will kill anyone who approaches close by. I have no view of him though. He’s marvelous and fucked up, that I can feel. It’s his mind-blowing smile and those scars on his chest that give me a brief image of him. I can’t see more than that. It’s all dark and shady in there. Time has revealed part of what I see and it seems a long way until I can finally complete the puzzle. I’m scared of who’s hidden behind those curtains as he has every power to finish me off. He owns my spirit and my body without letting me take any of it back. I’ve been tricked to give it all up to him, but when? I have no memory of such thing even if every night I’ve seen all kind of stories developing in my subconscious. Perhaps one of those nights was real, but which one? The heart I have left in me wonders by my mind’s side if that night was a carpet of shiny stars and a bright moon. Was it? It reminds me of the sky being dark green and the ground surprisingly light. The darkness was brighten by the ‘’full queen’’ of the night. Such a magical view! I was feeling upside down, like the world had changed for me and my fucked up man. His face was unseen, and I tried, I really tried to uncover it, to get through him, but I couldn’t. I shall stop my mind from wondering as I’m mistaken. I woke up at five o’ clock in the morning and the dream was gone as he faded away on a dark road and I lost the view forever. With that, I lost him too. Only she remembers him and I’m so jealous of her because she has seen his face. The moon was the only one who had the opportunity to guide his way home, back to his scars. I turned around to the other side, facing my pillow and closed my eyes. Until dawn I dreamed of nothing. Truth is I woke up smiling so I guess it had been all real; I just couldn’t feel him anymore.

            It’s all the same until I break. Until you break. It can happen any time, any minute. I see a tear falling on my notebook, my food or my hand. I lift it up and clean myself up trying to hold it together. I can’t. So I cry. I give up to my conqueror’s possession until I have nothing left in me. Once I’m soaked, I can sleep. I usually dream of nothing but a white tunnel. At least my inner queen doesn’t let me remember any of it. It’s such a relief sometimes and such a pain on rainy days. I’m being reminded of who I am those days and I worship them. I go back to my crib and let silence blur the scene for me. I sit down on my armchair and think of all the staff that keep on torturing me. The light of the candle reflects warmly in my eyes and gives me strength. Once the sun fights away the navy clouds, I’ve already put boundaries to my existence. I’ve already decided how my route shall continue and I follow it up until my next alone session. Time has already been both my friend and my enemy. Truth is I had never had to choose which of the two I want it to be. My human life has no meaning if I don’t accept the way it rolls and my destruction has already come once I felt his hands on me that night. That dream was weirdly realistic, the one and only realistic thing about him. And possible, the one and only possible thing about him. The possession is overwhelming me with emotions I have never met and that’s why I’m afraid of it. I’m so much afraid of what future will bring and all I can beg for is mercy. Mercy for my heart which is unable to last much. I’m not a compatible vessel for his aura and I don’t understand how he can still be inside me, flirting with my veins and feeding from my blood. If only I could exhale and scream that hard that I’d force his exit from my red room of pain. But the question is, do I want to? Am I ready to put these emotions to sleep for eternity or should I infinitely cherish him?