Untitled love

Untitled love

it’s inevitable how love refuses to part
with the sunset over the Aegean blue,
it’s unsettling to follow my shadow
wandering between pebbles and sand,
maybe because in your eyes
I see a way to escape the wind shears of life,
maybe because holding me in your arms
feels desirable and right
or just because I realize that
the crumbling snowflakes
are nothing more than ivory- satin stars
triumphantly spinning,
eventually ending the pale mornings.

And it’s hard to resist your kiss
when I’m falling in love,
it’s hard to forget that
there isn’t anything as delicate,
as dazzling,
as solemnly divine
as the dainty sounds of a crispy night,
with bodies drifting back and forth,
like carbon fibers lit
in a game of clouds and flames,
in burning Shangri-la.

and the sudden bells of vulnerability
have no faces, no names,
just sweetness that I want to grab,
grasp, cuddle and squeeze
every last taste of it.

I look at your face and
I am blithely content
in the silence of your presence
but in my veins, in your veins,
oceans gather
all those under water, echoing swirls,
which toil over our holding hands and
I thank the darkness for letting me so near
to the light of your world,
I close eyes in worship
just before every whisper goes
blind and senseless,
just before I find home
in the beauty of stubbornly, teal flowers.

and I wish I could freeze
the phantom of love,
to isolate our breaths,
our first touch
in a lonely equation of space,
surrounded by Damien’s Hirst
butterflies and roses,
where Neruda’s words are
the beats of my heart and
they never stop the gallop
in the tunnels leading to your heart,
they never escape
the stream of Cupid’s arrows,
and river flows in you, in me,
in the Universe,
and rain sparkles everywhere,

because it seems that
I exist only
in the candled lightnings of your smile,
holding fragrance and violets,
and the lullaby of feathers and violins.

* * * * *

Damien-Hirst-Requiem-White-Roses-and-Butterflies

“White roses and butterflies” by Damien Hirst

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© 2012  Broken Sparkles

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Moonlight sonata

The moon looked like melted mozzarella to my bleary and blurry vision.
Was I tired, intoxicated, or in love? Or was I sober, asleep, and alone?
”
― Jarod Kintz

* * * * *

Moonlight Sonata

Again, his name scars the emeralds of the twilight,
relentlessly trimming the sunny crown of the mountains
and it doesn’t stop, sneaking, boisterously,
until the last blush on the sky grows dim.

I want to dig dauntlessly into the echo of crying eagles,
to rescue the moon and her colors toning down,
dying, she breathes, charging one final whisper,
Run! Run before you drown in his misty heart!

And how can I resist such music,
a cascade of honey and violins in love with
the black and white shadows of an inconsolable piano?
How can I tune out the metallic kiss of strings?

When the fire in his touch comes and crashes me
with a thousand vows, sinfully, beautifully broken rules
that walk in a gown of raindrops and rainbows, and
sweet drafts of spellbound glow. How?

I lost my name in the pungent licks of winds, once,
I gave up the scent of wild flowers, the art to smile,
and now, squeezing leftovers of intimacy and moonlight, I wish
I could bring back the sonata of his faraway love in my eyes.

* * * * *

Inspired by Moonlight Sonata– E.S. Posthumus

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Moonlight by Petr Kratochvil on PublicDomainPictures.net

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© 2012  Broken Sparkles

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When a woman loves

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul” ~P.Neruda

* * * * *

When a woman loves

Mornings, ambrosial bouquet I remember,
pancakes and the taste of honey on my lips,
long time ago, I heard a song on the radio,
“When a woman loves” was the name, I think.

Was it real? The moment, the lyrics.
Was I that woman? The love, the feelings.
I can’t find the frequency to follow the rhythm.
Were there a dress and jeans swept on the beach?

When a woman loves. Did I ever?
Sullen, salted feathers in the nest, I whisper,
does fate step on a ground already walked?
Breeze polishing pearls, it wasn’t a dream, I feel it.

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“When a woman loves” by Blaga Todorova

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© 2012  Broken Sparkles

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