Midnight. 

It’s late, and I’m still thinking about you.

​”I am addicted.
She is my bottle of vodka.
She is my cookie crumbs.
She is the eighth colour of my rainbow.
The colour that’s everywhere,
Except inside the rainbow.
She is my three A.M.
The three A.M. pain I write about,
And the three A.M. calls I don’t make.
She is my happy ever after.
The happy ever after in a fairytale,
In those tales for my three A.M. kid,
In those stories for my four A.M. demons,
In those lullabies for my five A.M. drowsy eyes.
She is my sushi.
She is my ‘one eyelash – one wish’.
She is my 11:11 ‘Wish, please come true’.
She is my cigarette.
Here’s the fucking problem.
I’m addicted.
And she’s my nicotine patch.”


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Mirror

“Mirror mirror on the wall,
What is it that you want to say?
Today is the day;
So please say it all.”
“Last Tuesday
You broke down
Over that stupid stupid boy,
You cried and cried
Tried and tried
to fix things,
but in vain.
On Friday,
You came home smiling
A new bracelet
around your wrist;
And a rose in your fist.
Monday you sulked around,
Too tired to go to school,
Too tired to even wake up,
So you skipped.
This Wednesday,
You shouted at your mom,
and vented to your friend.
Only to apologize later
For the fault that was yours.
And on Thursday,
You broke down again,
You were in so much pain
but it was over for good.
Also, today morning
In the pink dress and a black hat,
You looked a little fat.”


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My darkness.

He did not remind me of big pretty things like the moon. He did not remind me of the sacrifices people have made for love. He did not  remind me of the stars lighting of the night sky, or the warmth of the campfire or the wolf howling for the moon. He wasn’t the night in shining armour saving me from this terrible terrible world. He wasn’t my prince charming, he did not kiss me back to life.

I have done all of that for myself. I did not need someone to fill those cracks in my heart, to make blood flood my cheeks, to clean those thoughts in my head. I did not need someone who made me feel incomplete to make me feel complete. Cause I know all that is bullshit. I am complete. I needed someone to stay. That is it. And sometimes, Lucifer does listen to you.

He was everything. His kiss was caffeine for me, waking up every cell of my body. His eyes nicotine for me, irresistible. His words had the effect of champagne, soft and sweet on happy occasions. On days when words failed him, his silence was Scotch, burning my throat. His laugh was weed that I always got high on. He was the drug I had at five in the morning, and the drinks I had at seven in the evening.

He reminded me of sunburns and dirty plates and empty boxes. He reminded me of sofas that have been jumped on too hard, and clubs where we made out. He reminded me of cassettes of old music, and books about war. He reminded me of jackets on a cold night, and kisses on a rainy day. He reminded me of movies we watched as we cuddled in a blanket too small for both of us.

He reminded me of sweat, shoulders and crumbs. He reminded me of conversations on things that don’t even exist. He reminded me of tan lines, dirty pillowcases and T-shirts. He reminded me of closed doors and lost keys and eyes too tired to stay open on the terrace. Not some wave moving back and forth hitting the shore or some light millions of miles away.

Yes, he was the conversation I had on the terrace as I put out my cigarette. He was the chest on which I lay my head, while cigarette buts and bra’s and shirts were thrown all around. He wasn’t some light, he was my darkness.


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What were we like?

We were like two phrases lost in translation. We made perfect sense in a language that I spoke and not at all in the language you knew.
We were like two stars that almost seemed to be touching, but were light years away. You wouldn’t know if I collapsed before it was too late.
We were like two dominoes, stacked against each other. If you fell, I’d fall with you.
We were like an eclipse. When we were together, I saw you and they saw you, but no one could see me.
We were like champagne, perfect for fancy occasions only.
We were like two halves of a broken heart. We could complete each other but we didn’t really fit.
We were like two coins, that made a lot of noise together but had lesser value apart.
We were like two nights, one darker than the other. But both still, silent, and calm.
We were like magic. I thought we were real, but you called it an illusion.
We were like two flowers blooming to be beautiful alone, but we had a stronger fragrance together.
We were beautiful. But I guess only I see it this way. Because we were like two pairs of eyes always seeing things differently.


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