last century, night was day was night and day again

your scent on the pillows and the bed sheets is gone. worn off. night is yawning, lazy and bored of all the affairs she witnessed in the shades. sun should be coming out soon, but it seems it`s going to be late this morning. streets are grey and quiet. even the autumn sleeps. and i can`t find any shadow of you in the house.
my mind is constantly searching for some rest, my fingertips are constantly searching for the warmth of your body, your skin, your messy dark hair in the late night.
peaceful breath in the early sunshine, the twist of a shy curl over your moving eyelids, hot hands curling my body into the dreams that chase away the shiver, the yesterday, maybe the time itself.i hear the minutes dripping off on the cold floor, seconds scratching the colors off the walls, hours howling at the moon. but i can`t hear what makes me drift off into the dream world: the rhythm of you breathing in your sleep.

fragrance from a honeysuckle

the world has your smell.

the cool evening air sifting through the open window bears memories of distant summer nights. memories of us lying in the whispers of the full moon, in the whispers of our blood running frantic through our veins.

crickets singing in the darkness, underneath the big stars, the only light when the moon is new, the only shimmer in your dark, in my dark dreams.

the smell of cold rain upon the hot city streets, the simmer of the concrete underneath the big rain drops, the tremble in our bodies as we listened to the rain singing on the rooftop of your balcony.

once upon a past lifetime

there’s an echo still hanging from the ceiling in a far away room from deep inside my soul. nobody could understand those half vowels scattered all over the empty hallways. except me.
i know that song.. those words. whispers flowing like silk, undressing mind and body from all known rules, erasing boundaries and galaxies in their way.
stories. old. cold. dusty.
my body aches. my bones are heavy.i have been staring through that frozen window for so long that my eyes can’t even remember how to shed a goddamn tear of sorrow or happiness. my fingertips feel numb. the only noise in the room is made by a mechanical clock.i couldn’t tell exactly its purpose there as all the seconds flew out the window centuries ago, when that song became an echo. i know for sure, i was the one to close all the doors and the windows for what seems now to be forever.
i kept my breath until i chocked on this thick dust and spider webs crawled up my face to close my eyes and drown my dreams.
and yet, somewhere in the corner of an eye, a crumble of a long lost dream got stuck and doesn’t want to fade away…
in the white early morning light, two bodies curled up in the small bed with blue sheets breath together, hearts skipping a beat every time eyes meet. skies are blue… sheets are blue… walls are blue. and it seems like eternal summer for two lost souls that feel as they have  lived like this in a past lifetime.
once upon a past lifetime these empty hallways were filled with laughter and songs..
can you hear that echo?