Does he dream of me?

Does he dream of me?

I wish I was in his eyes,
the unknown color of his world,
to see what can make him think
of summer, when the night is gray.

I wish I was the perfect line,
shaping his lips, to hear if
his voice will spread
enchanting fragrance.

I wish I was the velvet
covering his hands,
to discover what will be if
his finest touch and
a lonely rose get to dance.

I wish I could figure out,
why his soul is sculptured
out of darkness, why his
vision in a mirror brings
so many delusions?

Why his silence conquers me,
when I see the demons in his world,
the dragons that rule his existence?

I wish I could be the blood
pulsing in his veins, to be on my way
to his heart and in between
adrenaline and sweet pressure,

to find out, if I could only find out …
Does the mystery in him
think of me? Does the secret
in him ever dream of love?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Someone like you” by Martin Stranka on deviantart.com

© 2011  Broken Sparkles


Questions

Troubled

Why wasn’t I in Belfast?
And since when Cinderella
throws her shoe into a spam box?

Who left the post office closed?
And how come I feel, you jinxed
my powers when you left?

How loud the scream
of a dead sea serpent can be?
Is it spoken truth or blue dreams?

Is there a detergent for the mess?
If I ever figure out the math,
will I be back to a normal track?

~*~*~*~*~*~

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“Questions” by Reckless Chaos on deviantart.com

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© 2011  Broken Sparkles

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Standing tall

Standing tall

Can you agree blindly with laws and regulations
or balance crawls into the breath of heaven?
Imagine you can break the cold of the glass,
will you still go with “must do” and “have to avoid”?

Do you search for the line where the heart stays open
or the soul is immortally adjusted to canons?
And if you remain there for the rest of the night,
will you let in intimacy and ultraviolet lights?

Is there a map for the road from rules to freedom
or you endeavor friendship between passion and reason?
Do you invite them to the same table for a drink?
Aren’t they enemies, two opposite directions, north and south?

Does logic harm you inside or love heals the blues of the dawn?
If they enter the front door, will they sleep on the floor?
And if there is nothing left, but red peppers, wrapped in foil,
will you follow the routine, or will you learn the art of standing tall?

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"Art of standing tall" by Sonam Mandal

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© 2011  Broken Sparkles

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