Short, straight, burnt caramel hair. I do not know of her eyes, neither their form nor their colour. Her smirk forced me to lower my chin while smiling back. I only observed her laughter and few of her gestures. I’ve also heard her curse and her face was extremely calm. She excused herself with a deep breath. 

Later today, she walked by, eyes on the ground, a little bit tired, that’s how she seemed to me. Before that, she came again in the room. This time I looked at her eyes when her glare was focusing elsewhere. I saw the same burnt caramel colour. 
Her shirt was too chaotic, unfit, out of her standards. It amazes me how easily she changes. Her sceptical staring permitted me to watch her closer. The moment she laughed I tried to take my eyes of her but still, the chaotic shirt caught my eye. 
I was telling you about earlier when she walked by me. She gave me a quick look but I did not let our eyes meet, I narrowed my chin to the ground once again. The skin on the back of my neck tightened. 
It was something special about this woman, a mystery I will not understand but I wish I could explore.



      There was a time when the surface of the ocean was calm and irresistibly warm. I no longer cry for those times or try to establish them back into my life. Her untamed laughter can be easily compared to a huge rock striking the surface of the ocean. It creates an explosion inside me as if the dramatic and insane moments are not enough; I am asking for more. Sometimes I find myself worrying about the end of this hide and seek game. What if this insanity is all I need? What if the future becomes predictable?
     I put you through these ramblings of mine without telling you who am I talking about or how this infatuation began. I don’t know if the beginning matters to you but it definitely matters to me. I shall began first with the exquisite part of this journey which is definitely Her.
     She’s a woman that holds the privilege of being pure, as her name indicates so. Her natural brown hair hangs hardly in a ponytail or just caught with a clamp. She hardly lets it reveal her feminism. I looked up some old photographs of hers where she looked a lot like a carefree child, tanned and glittery. The sun adores her. She’s a woman that fights the winter days and loves the dawns at the sea. Her pale skin is always radiant and her eyes…well, those eyes have a lot to say. Perhaps that is where I can stop the description. The color of her eyes is something between autumn and spring; I think that the exact shade is called moss. She’s of a strange innocence when she smiles but that’s not easy to see as it is well hidden behind her temper. Her pace is always quick as if the road is long and she must hurry to reach the destination.
I still remember the magnificent view of her on that steel chair, sipping her latte, wearing her scarlet robe. That was the day I fell for her and it seems that I am still falling ever since.

A ponder on a human soul.



You asked me where have I gone. I answered ”here”. But my voice was silent. I was mute, incapable to scream loudly where I am. But I’m here. You don’t know this because you’re blind. You cannot see me through your majestic shades and I fear there is nothing to be done anymore. The volume of my voice cannot increase anymore. My heart beats are too loud. But nobody can hear them. Neither you. Your faces are masked. You wear a mask of ego. The neighbour wears a mask of money. I wear a mask of pain. My friend wears a mask of nothingness. So that’s it. We are all wearing masks, covering our inner selves, imploring for someone to break them without giving our permission. Don’t you think that’s too much to ask for from another human being? Who is he to shave away my pain? Who am I to fight his ego?
We do not bother ourselves. We try nothing and we accomplish nothing. We starve ourselves and then we’re fed so we don’t die. Isn’t it ironic? We starve ourselves from truth and we’re fed with big fat lies. In the morning we complain about our situation and at night we hope for the best tomorrows. But we do nothing. We breath in polluted air and exhale some more garbage to the world. We become an intoxication for our own kind. We are drugged by other human beings; knowing that they can either be our paradise or our inferno. I suppose the next rhetoric question I should be asking is whether that’s a good or a bad thing, but I am not. I am sure you are already asking yourself that or something similar. Aren’t you?
If you are not, maybe you should worry. Or you must definitely worry.
My soul is made of glass. The outline is thick and forms a perfect circle. It resembles to a ball of fire. Sometimes steel. Mostly though it’s glass. It can break easily but the fire still exists, containing it, keeping it intact. My mask is made of pain. Some may say it resembles to my soul. Others claim there is no pain inside me, just a failure that I’m trying hard to bring upon myself. I don’t know which theory applies in my case but I wish none are true.
My heart’s state is variable. There is mostly pain; the kind of pain that consumes me, burns my insides and somehow feeds me hope. My soul, I’ve seen, is more than glass and fire, or steel. My soul is blue, green and red. My soul is a mixture of clouds and oceans, soaked summer grass and extracts from extraterrestrial lands. My soul is made of what I am fed and I dare saying, my food is love and hate.



     How many words are born to impress? Not many. This one is. Fatalism.
Its’ eight letters embrace the deepest theories and feelings. I wonder whether the future agrees with me or not. But if, if we were allowed to believe that it was destined to be together, then let it be. I wish no insult to your thoughts but perhaps this is an accurate explanation to whatever tickles my insides. I do not know yet if there is an existing term for the sensation you give me.
The summer rain scares me. It’s hiding the sun, messing around with the moon. The heavens are desperately screaming. I feel my heart collapsing into a vacuum. The raindrops stretched on my skin daringly but I insisted on moving my hand back to safety. I wouldn’t let the rain touch me. I feared for a second it will take this inexplicable dulcet feeling away. The thought of it only electrified me.
The night falls into pieces of darkness, abstract lines of lightning and terrifying sounds of summer’s revengefulness. The earth implores the skies. I hear it praying for more. I wonder what ‘more’ means; even my heart wonders how ‘more’ would be.
Sometimes skipping the tormenting theories calls off the fear. At least in my case, it is gone. I smiled unwillingly while my mind faded in your aura.
Your head was resting beside me, your hand wrapped around my hips. I could not close my eyes. I felt I had to stay awake, watch over you. I was running my hand through your hair, on your cheek, close to your lips. Your lips curved into a smile when I touched your lower one but I feared I will intervene with your dream so I moved it back through your hair.
I felt my eyes closing but I would not dare sleep. The music, that specific song which I had on repeat while hoping your subconscious serves you a good dream, got me thinking about us. I had many questions vandalising my mind. The atmosphere was silent. The first hays of the sun hit the window and an unusual lightness fogged my question marks. I felt non existent but still attached to your skin. I smiled without knowing the exact reason. Or at least, without thinking of it. However, it was obvious.
Perhaps for a moment I had it all. Summer. Lightness. A song. White sheets. You.
That morning, I needed nothing more. So the earth needs nothing more. Tonight it is fed with water. In the morning I dare saying the sun will rise, his hays will burn sweetly.

Passion & Fever.


I get wrinkles on my face every time I think of you but I don’t mind. Oh God! Why would I ever mind? The feverish feeling that you give my body hangs warmly on the shore of my heart. You are a breath of life and I wish I could inhale you every second of my existence. I drag myself to the point of collapsing into a deep black hole. There lie your deepest fears but my love, you should know I feel no remorse. I could easily drown into them, fall from the highest heights for you. I am in need of your lips as the morning grass wishes to be kissed by the soaked frost. I am praying for one touch of yours. I find myself biting my lower lip every time I see your face. Oh, those eyes! Brownish, frustrating and mysterious. They travel on my mind, stretching in every corner and your heart has made itself comfortable into mine. I feel no remorse my love. You should know. I carry you inside, heavily but oh; sweetly, deeply, madly, truly. Tonight I promised your soul I will dream of its’ master. My subconscious obeys to you. I am closing my eyes and you appear in front of me naked, undressed of your fears. All my heart desires is to seduce you. The clock hits 3 a.m. and I am suffocated by your lips. Such a sweetness. This kind of intoxication fills me with joy. You release your heat upon me, your body elaborates a toxic substance that makes me fall on my knees before you. I am weakened. No remorse. I am weakened by a decent dulcet feeling. They say it is love. Who are they? Do not wonder my love. They are presenting themselves as the guardians of my heart but do not fear. With you I let my guard down. I am yours. I am letting you guard my heart. Do not ever break it because it carries yours. This is all you should know.
Now close your eyes. Dream with me. Love with me. Love us. Set us on fire and inhale the heat we elaborate. Inhale our oxygen. Inhale me.

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. 

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.

Rambling at Midnight #Fiction



            But how can one forget? Has anyone told you it is easy? It is not. The wind blows your scent and I can feel you as I inhale deeply, running through my lungs and I wonder; what if you are the one giving me life? And it kills me not knowing the truth. Doubt has never been an easy visitor to my mind. It’s consuming. My heart is once more consumed by your aura. Being close to you makes it harder. Makes it harder to forget, and I repeat it to myself as I write these lines. Harder. And my body can feel the pain suffocating every vein, not letting my blood run freely. How can one forget? I ask myself once more in desperation. Nobody can. At least I can’t. I know my soul still desires to meet your eyes and my body still craves your touch. But most of all, my eyes would die to see your face standing in front of me. I know they would.

I’m here. I scream inside me to myself, hoping you can listen to my inner voice. But hope is the latest thing I can do now. I’m hopeless and for the first time I know I won’t see you. I’ve lost you and it seems eternity to me the day I’ll ever see your angelic face. Perhaps the infinite days that we counted were a lie and I say perhaps because I shall give strength to myself by keeping a flame alive. I shall remember the fire that burnt us because it gave warmth to my heart and light to my brain. My darkness has now your presence that illuminates it. But how can one forget? No one can. These are the moments I wish for the ability to erase the pain. I wish nothing but that. I want to be left with the memories and their bittersweet taste on my lips, but shall my soul be left alone as it’s too much destroyed to live another day in this hell. The hell you created when you made your way to my heart and forgot the path to get back from where you came. What if I could erase the pain that I keep in my heart for so much time? Would it be better? Would it make me a better person? I shall not care as this moment the pain is not only emotional, but physical too. So yes! I wish I could erase all of it and if you left with the pain, perhaps I’d let you. I need my freedom and you can give me only that cage. Which I hate, I hate, I hate; because it burns and the wound is so deep that no treatment can be found.

But how can one erase it all? Nobody can. The feeling is still there, stuck deeply in my heart and I really doubt if it’s only there. I am sure it has the power to take it all from me, soul and body, mind and spirit, and I’m homeless. You’ve left me homeless into my own home. How is that possible? It ain’t. I can clearly answer all my questions. I’m so in need for you, my love. The voice inside my hopeless head is still arguing with someone at the end of the tunnel but it’s dark in there and I can see nothing. I wish it was you but it ain’t. I sense there are only ashes there; perhaps my broken and burnt pieces.

The pain has moved from my stomach to my spline and now it’s aching my heart. The territory around my chest is in pain and little by little I feel it spread everywhere. Its’ exact location I can’t predict but it hurts so damn much.

I’ve denied it the past days to everyone, including myself. I’ve denied you. I’ve denied your existence in my heart but I can’t anymore. I shall finally admit, everyone to know, myself included, that you will never die inside me. This love shall always live and conquer me, no matter whose hands touch my body or whose heart loves mine. I know that I will never love you. I will always love someone else because ‘’love’’ is such a little thing when it comes to you. There are no words used by humans or others to explain how I feel about you; but I definitely know it’s not love. I will never love you. Perhaps I’ll live for you, as it is the most valuable thing I have, even if you don’t deserve it. You, my darling, you don’t deserve any of this; it’s no right to feel this way and I shall never mention love when it comes to you. The reason I’m in pain is your existence but you should know that without it I’d be lost. So, how can one live without you? No one can. You are the most painful thing in my life which keeps my heart beating and you’ll always illuminate the darkness inside me. Your darkness will be my darkness, somehow it will lighten my spirit, just like the dark moon gives light to the hot summer nights.