Waterfront

Every day she writes you a letter with a pencil that has no lead,

and addresses it to a future house, that never does get built…

81_Fotor.jpg

Lost and found

We are lost now…

But every evening, when I close my eyes,

I return to the place where you found me.

IMG_3989_Fotor.jpg

An old story

Her body is an empty house once bought by a man for the price of love. The man used to enter with care and take pride in decorating it with expensive trinkets.

Soon he came and went as he pleased. He locked the door always but left the shutters open so as to let curious people look in but never enter. Soon he stopped coming altogether. Still he would not sell the house.

The house grows tired, old and has become so cold as there is no one to light the fire anymore. The dampness is rising and the foundations are crumbling.

It is a shame that no one ever comes to save her, and discover the beauty that lay within neglect.

 The beauty in neglect.

The beauty in neglect.

Another old story.

I was so cold that night and the firewood was no more.

All that was left to burn in my little room was an old wooden chair and my paintings; the ones I painted for you, the ones I painted of you, and in every brushstroke my memory of you and I.

So I carried the old wooden chair and sat it by the fireplace, gathered the precious paintings and offered them to the hearth.

I sat on the chair and lit my last match- An Inferno…

You kept me so warm that night.

IMG_3431_Fotor_Fotor.jpg

Passions of the Soul

The beautiful written exchange…

 A photo of my grandmother.

A photo of my grandmother.

on the outside

While I am here, waiting patiently at home, I am not sure where else to look, but to the sky…

Gone?

Where is that girl…

She was me…

but I am not her…

I was her…

but she is not me.

DSC_0655_Fotor1.jpg

Drawn work

Another finished today…

IMG_4098_Fotor.jpg

Are you there?

Insanity knocks as constant as the beat of my heart and as enduring as the march of time. Alone and needy today, I chose to open the door to Insanity, earnest he enters, and Reality whispers her warning, the struggle is brief.

How beautiful Insanity is as he entertains my deepest desire:

to be close to that which will forever remain distant from me.

P1080118_Fotor.jpg

Abendlied

The songs have ceased. I had hoped it were the interlude I was waiting in, but this one has gone far too long now. Perhaps this time it was never an interlude, perhaps it really were the end of it all.

IMG_3474_Fotor.jpg

Quidam

She cast the same shadow of a woman she'd not yet been, she was not of this time and wanted so desperately to go home, but the door was locked. Had she not got what she came back for?

IMG_3731_Fotor_Fotor.jpg

reflection of a foolish wish

The most foolish little thing she was, for long ago she had fallen in love with the moon. It was the most wonderful thing she had ever known, she thought it as a man who could shine his light and make beautiful even the darkest of places. What magic. But the moon had travelled the world endlessly and had seen the most beautiful of women, and foolish was she who thought that such would ever love an ordinary girl like herself. Still, she wished to live in the sky next to the moon like her secret window reflected, and be that second satellite, circling around and around forever. But the wishes of small-town girls are only ever just that, with her head in the clouds, upon waking in her simple life, another dream of distant places snuffed out as violently as the flickering, desperate little light before slumber.

But that was long ago and she has grown up now and knows the way things go, the dreams have faded as has her foolishness and though she will always love the moon, it is now enough just to know that it exists,

the moon and her exist at the same time!...that is enough for her.

IMG_29_Fotor.jpg