Slipping silently

night lamp

the trembling glow of fireflies

a promise of dawn

I don't have words anymore

broken verses lie on my feet... 

                        

It is at nights that i miss you the most...

Beautiful Sadness, by Michael Parkes (detail) (c)

It is at nights that i miss you the most
when my loneliness sings me a lullaby
my fingers run along the waves of sweaty sheets 
trying to find the way to the land of dreams that is you


It is at nights that i miss you the most
when my spirit is weak
and my body lingers
between the truth and the lie 
you, with your hands of cotton
and your lips of honey
you, who comes softly into the darkness 
and nests in my heart with wings of feathered memories


It is at nights that i miss you the most
and the moon
is dancing over my despair in a golden frenzy
because it knows 
that my longing is bitter
and my yearning is sweet
like your taste as if you have kissed me
for the first time... 

Summer

Summer Solstice, by Daniel Merriam (c)

If You Forget Me, by Pablo Neruda

Lovers "Summer", by Simone Lipschitz

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Lovers' Infiniteness, by John Donne

Fair is my love, by Edwin Austin Abbey If yet I have not all the love, Dear, I shall never have it all, I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move, Nor can entreat one other tear to fall. All my treasure, which should purchase thee, Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent, Yet no more can be due to me, Than at the bargain made was meant. If then thy gift of love were partial, That some to me, some should to others fall,      Dear, I shall never have thee all. Or if then thou gavest me all, All was but all, which thou hadst then; But if in thy heart, since, there be or shall New love created be, by other men, Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears, In sighs, in oaths, and letters outbid me, This new love may beget new fears, For, this love was not vowed by thee. And yet it was, thy gift being general, The ground, thy heart is mine; whatever shall      Grow there, dear, I should have it all. Yet I would not have all yet, He that hath all can have no more, And since my love doth every day admit New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store; Thou canst not every day give me thy heart, If thou canst give it, then thou never gav'st it; Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart, It stays at home, and thou with losing sav'st it: But we will have a way more liberal, Than changing hearts, to join them, so we shall      Be one, and another's all.

"Blue Reflection" Gundam Seed Destiny - Unfulfilled Feelings

Expression, by Helen Jane Long

Lonely heart

What is happiness...

Embrace of a couple in love.

October 1958, Nina Leen.

" I had to grow old, my boy, to learn what is happiness.


In the end, happiness is a pair of hands, two hands...


Those hands that are going to hug you, to hold you, to put you to sleep, to take care of you, to cook for you, to caress you and at the end they are going to close your eyes.


Too many hands mess you up.... It's a waste of time. You will see that, you too, while you will be growing up..."




                                                                                                               Th. V. 

Fragile

fragile
butterfly wings so soft
like dreams
caught between your fingertips
leaving back their satin trace....