Gave up love for cigarettes.I had splinters on my feet,Gave up love for cigarettes.
and you left me with no shoes,
as I was walking down a pebble beach.
The blue abyss in the darkness, and you walking away, the moon made your hair orange, as if on fire. Fractured rocks on the ground,
a photograph of us, cheerful and full of life, now tossed aside and hidden by the sand.
All that life, now gone, I don't know your face like I used to, the face that was embedded in my mind. In between the lies, the cigarettes. Between your legs, the tequila. Nothing but the joys of yesterday, &
summer hoursThrew the dice, pay the price, mark me down as one of the others, the ones whose actions have no consequence to you. In my garden,summer hours
We play with the butterflies, in my garden, we dream about the summer hours. But you exclude me from those dreams. I make you laugh, yet you expect it, and don't give me a word of thanks for it, nor the kiss I've been longing for. I lose my focus, I keep my cool, wishing the summer hours would warm your heart again. I imagine the sun burning as it did before,
but I'm stuck in snow. They say there's a blizz
before the plungecolored spray on the walls of doubt, a strange feel of obligation which reconciles with this moment, the meticulously built-up horizon we're enclosed in, dreamers of the sky and the wake, the earth and the dead. Cigarettes, soccer and foolish actions, inducers of deep sleep, or conflicting emotion. The sun on my tired skin, an unnatural progression of life, in my stoic retribution, the winding down before the deep plunge. I reverse, a prelude to my debauchery, my reckless thoughts standing between me and the rabbit. Suddenly, the unstoppable fire,before the plunge
Last goodbyeThat look you gave me,Last goodbye
As you turned away; Your eyes,
Cold and piercing; I knew it would be the last. I kept reminding me of the first one, Sweet and irresistible, Cheeky and inviting,
Filling me with hopes and dreams. Now they’ve already crashed, And slowly in front of my own eyes, They are burning. Whatever I had built destroyed. And I’m left here alone, As you have fled the scene.
There’s nothing left for me anymore, Only the coldness of your last goodbye.
Fourteen LiesI glance up Thirteen years I face now And think What have I becomeFourteen Lies
I regret Thirteen of the Fourteen years Look at me What have I become
Little girl Trying to save The last piece Of the only truth What have I become
Mother Do you see me Would you help me When I cry for you at night I've never known such fright
Mother Won't you know me Won't you save us one more time Won't you behold everything That I have become
Ghost Days
The railway
--
In love with you... Beauty, Grace, Shape, Form...
--
Face it darling, paint those dreams.
--
......
Have a very happy Holiday!
--
When words become unclear,
I shall focus with photographs.
-Ansel Adams
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