diopoe5

Two eyes

They were not two common eyes
which hysterically projected out of the wild
vegetation of today full of agony,
anxiety and question marks
often inexpressive, rinsed of reality,
sprinkled by the fake future
and full of promises.

They were two friendly eyes,
as nothing else more expressive.
Two eyes,
that once I believed that I passed
unnoticed in front of them
and I now have the feeling that
they search as well for my glance.

Two eyes which speak so loud
about yesterday,
they made my mind live back then,
in the past.

Maybe you didn�t understand it then.
Maybe you don�t understand it even now,
that you are reading it,
but because of these eyes I endured
for a few years more.

The black yesterday fluttered
in my mind again,
I take two or three sips of today
to forget. Can I though?

The figures of some unknown people
under the balcony.
The flower shop.
They choose with no expression.
They buy with no expression
and with no expression they leave.

So many meaningless question marks
in the sediment of nostalgia,
in the labyrinth of mind,
and then confusion and despair.

It�s not worth it..., I kept telling myself.

All of a sudden something like lightening,
like a sun ray in the middle of the night.
It becomes day, for a moment.
The ice of the heart cracks and melts.

And I see you that time so different
even though you were far away from me
and I yearned for you so much, I remember.

Who knows why..., I was wondering.

I wipe the moisture from my eyes,
I bind with tomorrow
your hands with my hands
like a bandage around them
tightly many times never to unravel
and finishing that I kiss them and I sigh.

Is it a dream,
or is one truth thrown to the rubbish,
forgotten feelings that come and knock
on the door for one more time.

And I look into my coffee cup.

Black shapes are passing
from the depth,
mine, unknown, unfamiliar,
I see yours and the vision stays.

The smoke of the cigarette
designs your silhouette tall in the room.
It gets larger and larger
embraces the walls
and vanishes.

The candle alight on the table
for only a short time longer
and then it will extinguish.
At that time it will be twelve o�clock
it will not make a mistake.
The day has finished.

And I write on these pages
and keep notes.
Dull thoughts like the people around
who hold me back often
and push me and walk over me.

And me I only feel sorry
for that kind of my wretched state
but I am a human being as well
I feel sorry. (cont.)