In My Life

I don't remember anything in my soul
it's all so faint and two dimensional now as a tale that I've heard a long time ago.
And it's only been two weeks. Oh, well, maybe already two years of parting, if you want to look at it that way. Without music everything fades even faster. Some songs will bring it all back to me, the feelings, the knowledge of the bond, the affection, the convictions, the - love.
But I don't love you anymore. It's been taking me that long. But now I can say it and it seems to be true - for now, at least.
I remember that my dad told me once that if I want to know what I truly feel I'd have to stop listening to music for a while. To find what is truly inside of me, and not taken in or triggered by music. I haven't been listening to much music lately, because I've been working a lot and it has taken me far from that road we traveled for so long.
I don't know what will be in my life. I still would love to show you some things here. But now it's past dusk and I gotta go. Maybe sometime else. In a different life.
When we can love and live together.

stick to it

He sang them, in all kinds of ways, sometimes he would deny them, sometimes he would bring them up out of the blue, sometimes he would piss you off, showing no care.
He might have seemed pathetic and pitiful at some point but as he went through he came through, slowly but surely, until not only he but also the rest of the world believed it.
Wounds healed over time or so it seems. The frames that contained them still look pretty impressive but sometimes he can't help but destroy them with one big stroke, smashing them, shattering them, enraged that they are the invisible anchor to memories that are gone.
But so we all keep going. In my cage behind glass windows I watch the grey street morph into a liquid stream of lead, telling stories of yet another life in slow motion.
People still cheer him on, scrambling for the shattered pieces of old picture frames.
And I am so far away from anything, you are safe behind seven veils and songs become songs, valid in themselves, and whatever emotions flooded through me just kept on flowing and left me stranded at some moon filled bay without compass or sense.
Sometimes I think that maybe we just loved him, that our love reflected off this big full moon and when it declined we left, sucked into the black that hid all that was ours. This thunderstorm swirled me in outrageous spirals and spit me out at some sidewalk in Berlin where everything seems so calm and people hurry but they can't hurt me.
And my love is not fazed nor faded, it lingers in the midst of unspoken words and lies, in melodies too sweet to bare and naked dreams that fill your night mares.
I do not understand anything that is happening to me nor to you, I just feel how the oceans and mountains and plains and timezones separate the anguish from pain.

Hey that's no way to say good bye

Serendipity of life.
You in Aby's apartment. The smell just like back then. We used to make good food here you say and good love I add, then there is silence again.
It was good love. Nashville Skyline and you taking the bus and the metro while I was fluttering with excitement and anticipation, peeking out onto the cold grey street to see if you were coming already, with your cloudy hair.
Hey, I say, I have a song for you.
It is 'Hey, that's no way to say good bye'
It is perfect. I feel your heartbeat, I feel the salty waters, I feel, how things come together. There is so much longing and that's what I love. I love, that human beings long. It makes us sing and dance and philosophy and belief. It makes us sad, it makes us glad, it makes us keep on going. It is okay when we can't always back everything up. It is okay as long as are growing a learning.
ah.

You are sleeping, still, warm and fuzzy. Hard to leave your arms, they are golden, they are warm, they hold me. Sometimes I think of L.Cohen's 'Marianne' and how she made him forget to pray for the angels. And then they forget to pray for us....
I leave you good bye, just for a second. Finding myself in the clouds. When I come back you still will be sleeping, we'll make breakfast and go to work. Art is breathing under the carpet, tears are saved for the rain. Smiles break through me when I am angry, worries in vain.

'Hey that's no way to say good bye' (L. Cohen)

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

full moon

the kiss was like a sting, short, sweet, deep. one of those unprepared moments in which you could let it go or take advantage of it. a powerful eagle, spreading his wings, in just one blink of the eye.
- we let go of each other very well aware of that dangerous tension, of that door we just had opened. it had been shut for a while. under the daily burdens. the daily tasks and goings and comings. his fingertips burned through light blue cloth into my shoulders. i bent over to get the dark red guitar case out of the car. his breath sharp and controlled breaking the magic, breaking the flow, making us go back to where the others were gathering in everchanging circles and spirales, laughing, talking, moving.
he was so close to me. so near to me. so precious to me. I remember. that night. full moon, high above the ocean. the sky a haven, big, round, wide, like a giant bell covering us little lovers in the palm of the world. like me embracing him with the innermost part of my body and soul... he kissed me like lava kisses the earth when the volcano erupts, his hands and breath and curls brushing over me like the wind, waves coming in and out, finding home, salt water to salt water and his eyes, like two burning coals next to the full round silverwhite shining moon. the moon, so still, so foggy, so mysterious, just smiling, just smiling, just finding us again.
do you remember that night, i said and he laughed, laughed it off, shook his shoulders and straightened up, gazing into the grey zone between the shore and the line.
night has come over us again.
he holds me and we drink and laugh and see her smiles, somewhat longing lingering in the air between us. finally we are all together. a full circle. and then he bends down over me, his fingers stroking my hair out of my face, smiling like a young god, his eyes, his eyes, mercy upon your soul. my lover full of grace smiles me in, takes me in, breathes me in, saying, see, my love?

the lover

she finished her drink.
expensive. free.
shook off her tiredness.
gaining focus. trying to be.

'i'm a longing lover' she said. 'better alone.'

you know, to the extremes. closeness exploding, distance imploding.
that's what she liked.
always.

work is the inbetween. raging with anger. raging with lust. raging with trying to just calm the fuck down.

the broken glass

it was just a vase.

the flower will fade just like the memories will fade.
one day, it will look wilted, ugly and old.
it will stink.
i will say, look, no wonder the glass broke, this flower was a stinking mess.
in the end, it was just a vase.

the water, in the meantime, trickled down the floor, found a crack, sneaked into the ground, filtered by earth, fed by gnomes and fairies that I believe do not exist. maybe.
the water was in the vase, nourished the plant - but I forgot all about it.

the water was love and it still is somewhere, pure, as it was.
pure, as it is. unconcerned about

flowers
vases
and all that

p.s. - facts

I really wish I could write about the beautiful things happening in my life right now but it seems that so called bad things lead to more alone-time and therefore more writing. sometimes a couple of ideas of what to write cross my mind but I never write it down and then, when I am sitting here to write it all down my mind is blown away and empty and writing-less...
maybe i have to write plain facts these days as opposed to facts transformed into fiction as I love to do.

here five facts that make my days:

1. He is back
2. I do love him, it's not an illusion
3. I found out where my whales go, which kind of whales they are
4. I will follow them (please click on the link to a post of beautiful amazing Veronica of lonely roads and psycho paths!)
5. I will stay here for one more year in OUR little studio apartment and with my amazing job - in other words, life is still making the best decisions, life is still an amazing adventure that I am merely following like an astonished child.

ah, and i love my parents, my family and yeah. the whales and my friends. my friends....

the letter

sometimes a feeling can overflow into my fingertips and pour into the keypad like liquid honey.
sometimes a feeling is so strong that it can't belong
not to this pad, not to this world of words, not to the black and white of the happily ever after.
but, i'll try anyway. sometimes a classical music piece says it better. or Carlos Gardel's Tango.

he wrote me a letter.
it was the perfect letter that I never thought I would get.
ever.
and see, how i am at a loss of words. i will have to go my goldsmith that is hidden where the gnomes live, in a dark deep mountain.
i will have to go and smith the words, pour them into golden leafs and jewelry that will be my nightsky.
he sent three little curb flowers with it.
fragile, like butterfly wings, pressed, flat, shimmering, light, so frail and yet so heavy in meaning.
the butterflies have returned.

geometry

I start believing, beginning from today again, that time is moving in spirals, not linear, if it is moving at all. Sometimes I also believe that it is like air, ever present in the confinements of our little earth system, more an area or content than a line between A and B.
These thoughts, however, flicker inconstantely and fickel through my mind. What actually counts is that music is magical and very persuasive and very deluding and at times stimulating.
All these things are geometrical.
Also the way I feel about him.
Very geometrical. Somteimes a kiss says it all.