Skip to main content

Copenhagen I

Nyhavyn is the color that does not click but reflects the 4:38 in the morning. Your running motion covers the whiteness of your light skin in a glitz. Your skinny arms are the word of perfection that stuns your angelic feathers around your ears. Your mighty, grey-blonde hair, a white t-shirt, and a pair of average-sized gray shorts remind me of the Pearls. The whiteness of the atmosphere and the districts are not left to end our run in a desperate klima on Strava, but a rain check for a dark coffee finalé. Your lucky blush colors as you close your eyes toward the clouds,
Lies are the faults that stop us from going further. 
Why do you care about them? 
What are you afraid of? 
Remember our times on the bikes. 
My birthday party. 
And my white crop top. 
As I fake a smile, I step into a white tunnel of eternal mirrorless on cloud nine, to see you taking a selfie in the mirror that didn't exist. The echoes of the sinking Titanic screech me after seeing you kissing another guy who doesn't exist. The promises we've never made. Then, you grab my arm,
I am also trying to find the right person like you. 
Someone who runs. 
Someone who is balanced with work and life. 
Someone skinny. 
Someone who is a native English speaker. 
Someone white as exam papers. Someone who doesn't white lie. 
Follow me.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Kyiv

 My parents have renounced me. Their purpose of belonging was the wreckage of a pasta plate, and my Garmin watch wished me a reset. Wherever I go, the pain of chagrin and fear engulfs me around the corners. Loud neighbors, intruding burglars, and mice are my dissertation to burn this gomorrah down with His weapon of justice. The pristine lattice of limestone pillars ceases while the glamour of Babylonian cult priests fathoms by the separated islands' fire of promise. Excessive lavishing of fools and the fruit of knowledge meet the dire Judgement. Independence Square marks 6 o'clock on the first day of June, as you cover my eyes from behind and start the countdown in tears.   Remembers the days of argument, not the moment of pride. Remember, they cannot save you and live longer than I. Remember the times you were saved, even the moments of isolation at church.  Remember that you're forgiven, and I am letting you free from them.  Rebel with me against the rule of ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Nashville breeze

I enter the rupture of calamity, unmesmerized by the stained glass of a five-year-old clock. The provocative thoughts are like bread tamed in fire. The two flawless alignments of pews guide me to the rug of infinity, whilst my emotions delight at the sacred rooftops and the book of Life. Feather-like footsteps discern the enlightenment as the girl in a white t-shirt and gray shorts unfurls the silence. You stand behind my back and place your cold hands on my eyes.  Thank you for being part of my Monday. I debated waking up early. Before it's too late, I wanted to make sure to kneel down and pray for my beautiful family. Come and join me.
Post a Comment
Read more

Copenhagen II

A lavish homesickness and break-up put me in the paysage of cobblestones, virtualized by the pristine, color-dyed monuments. The tension in my arm and shoulder tortures me in vain. The isolation drops me to my knees amid the crowd. I lie down while the crowd spits on me to stand up, but I ease the street. A girl in a white crop top and summer shorts touches my left arm to dispel the memories of shame and guilt. Your skinny arms and your blonde hair hypnotize me with your blue gaze. Your running watch aligns with the facade of your early smile, before rain pours.  You lift me up and close my eyes in a jolt of numbness, but your floral cologne. Then, the countdown starts. I know you are going through a hard time.  Sometimes, going to the library and doing my work helps me forget the past. Whether you are alone or not, you've waited long enough for the dream between us.  We're holding hands and walking upon the piers, while seagulls greet us with aggression.  Time tells...
Post a Comment
Read more