no rules

Let’s not speak in any language

Let’s not pretend that we know

Let’s wait for the silence

To make its way home

Let’s wait how time

disappears when you don’t count anymore

Let’s forget all the games

to catch the real love

Let’s not wait for money

to bring us close

Let’s not count how much things

everyone owns

Let’s not wait for a a big house

to call it home

I’ll make a scene about a man that’s sad and lonely

Emma: While the moon is still up, I just can’t sleep. This unexpected cold that walks through my bones makes me drink hot tea all night. I’ll warm my veins, and I’ll see what happens. But I have this desire, to ask you. Tell me, Frank. Are you happy now?

Frank: I am not. What do you think, Emma?

Emma: Let me make a scene about man that’s not happy but lives like he is. A man with jokes in his pockets, music in his heart, and wine in his veins. Cold soul and blood. Dark eyes that can shine on each moonlight. Never afraid to lose anything. Never tried to turn fire on and off. Easy as a late autumn wind. You’ll always remember him if he walks into your life. Happy and sad. Melancholic. Watching the world like he created it. Empty diversity. With the perfect shape of any personality. Lived life as he can die any second. Never late. Careful. Gentle. Never learned how to smile. Lost everything in a moment. Found peace where he never expected it. Walks alone. Sleeps alone. Eats alone. I think you are happy, Frank. But you don’t know yet.

Frank: I guess I am. Tell me, Emma. You and I should say a good-bye for a little while?

Emma: I suppose so, sir.

Frank: And how do people perform that ceremony of leaving? Teach me, I am not quite up to it.

Emma: They say, “bye” or any other form they prefer.

Frank: Then say it.

Emma: What must I say, sir? I wasn’t intending to leave you, why would I say such a thing?

Frank: Because you are not intending to stay either. You’ll do nothing more than say bye?

Emma: It is enough, sir; as much good will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many.

Frank: Very likely; but it is blank and cold.

Emma: Saying good-bye is a little like dying. Ultimately, it is not because of this or that we part from a person. You know how good-bye feels. How the air gets excited when all its ions and electrical charges are disrupted, first by the intent to leave and later by the leaving itself. Then, when the bodies move away through space, they create empty pockets where feelings get caught and eddy around in the vacuum, creating little vortices of relief or sadness or confusion.

Frank: Then never say that, Emma.

his love

If his love was as living in a perfect house
where it never feels like home
why did you choose to stay for?
in those empty and flimsy walls
Holding yourself together
like you meant to be perfect
If his words were unkindly ripping off your existence
making your small, and never felt your resistance
If his touch was leaving footprints of dust on your bones
like a broken piece of glass damaging your soul walls
If his breath was destroying your freedom
If his kiss made from ice
was leaving bruises on your delicate lips
every single time, paying your price
If his love was holding you
like you hold against an old book
that you eternally know
you’ll never read it again
If his love was like a weak fire
that never made you feel wanted
walking on this earth like you are haunted
Tell me, you not him
Why did you stay?

I need autumn

Pour me some autumn in my veins

so I’ll remember from where I came

I never was good at summer anyway

but for some reasons, I stayed

I need autumn to remind me

how the root of our existence

can change

how the wind can be gentle

and how drastically can change

I need autumn to remind me

how life is never the same

nor people stay this way

photo by clozzdemir