What is left of you?
Two photos of you and me.

Distant memories, forgotten
Two souls once lit.

Time always knows to erase wounds
Where once were springs of dream. 

Stupid promises for eternal love,
Forgotten along with the years.

These photos I look in the moonlight,
Blurred shadows of past peace.
Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

Full Moon

The words are blurred. They are lost.
Eyes are getting older. They are blinded.

Our wrinkled faces
Are mirrored in front of us.

Desires that were not fulfilled
Touch feelings that were hurt.

We move forward holding sticks.
You walk beside me. We both wrestle.

Sun is getting dark. It’s getting late.
Full moon tonight
Υour pale face resembles


Peaceful night. Indolent. Everyone believed that this peace
Would last forever.
Desperately looking for something to happen.
Intense lights, loud music. People. Lots of people. Paying attention to nothing.
Searching for one another.
How can they find others when none of them has ever found himself?

They say they know. They pretend they know.
They don’t need anyone else.
Stories of a life and dead memories.
Nothing is enough to thrill them.
Nothing is enough to awaken souls.
Souls buried in the dark.

Music comes out of instruments not tuned.
Their songs sound stupidly.
Their lights even when they are on, they are off to their eyes.
Voices without soul are heard like screams.
Screams coming from far away.

Yet, it is you who screams “Help, save me”
You are next to me. You try to reach me.
That is what I am here for. I try to reach you but I can’t.
You pull yourself back.

Night gets deeper. Your face is pale.
Your look is terrifying.
I shudder to the sound of your scream.
It is not you calling me.

What calls me is that what makes you be afraid of yourself.
Only you can find yourself.
You can be saved by you,


Vain thoughts, vain words, vain glances.
False hopes born inside you.

They made you think of yesterday with me again.
So much different everything was.

I felt it. You wanted me back.
I was a part of you myself.

Until, I felt you were turning into prison.
Impossible, for us, to be again as one.

Photo by Olya Kobruseva on Pexels.com