A bloodless rose

She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her. I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her.
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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A bloodless rose

Let me forget the days with silent sunsets,
with violins that howl, sore and burning,
while on top of the emerald globe the gods
surrender to the infinity of a triumphant passion.

Let me forget that the wind has your voice,
your bitterness, your arctic glow,
in a universe of malignant apples and artificial legends,
where love is a primeval style of calligraphy.

Let me be free of the twilight with raw ashes,
of dreams burning under the breath of lonely dragons,
let me believe in the power of talismans,
so I can find a way to bring a dead rose back to life.

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“Dead rose” by Blaga Todorova

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© 2012  Broken Sparkles

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Away

Away

One by one
the chains will fall down,
the metal rings of torture
will break and all objects,
creatures, feelings connecting me
to this place will follow with a loud crash.

They will slowly disappear,
will eventually dash to pieces,
to notice once I wake up,
there is nothing left to make me stay.
Yesterday was the smile of the sun,
today is the beach with stones,
tomorrow will be nothing,
just the dreams of new horizons.

People change and I have changed too.
Rain doesn’t look like a sad picture
of a crying cloud anymore,
but like drops feeding my skin with life.
The boundary between
the earth I step on right now
and the sky I look at every night
it doesn’t satisfy my thirst,
I wish I could be some place else.

Love is not beautiful anymore,
being his prisoner is not tempting,
now freedom is all that I pray for.
I long to drive on a long road,
with the volume of the radio to the end,
my hair flying with the wind,
my heartbeat chasing the wheels.

I imagine walking on streets
I haven’t been to yet,
I look to read stories
I haven’t heard about before,
I need to taste lips ready to be there
every time I miss sweetness,
I want to truly love, to be loved and
this time away… faraway from here.


Image by Nicola Aiken-Ripolin

 

© 2010  Broken Sparkles

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