i wonder if your eyes ever talk to mine

the way mine scream to yours: do you even see me?

"don't leave your belongings unattended":

i'll steal all your glances

each one a stabbing pain for a feeble heart

you blue-eyed criminal, enchanter, hipnotizer

easy to hate and easier still to love

@girlwithwanderingthoughts

"When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew."

Shakespeare

it's scary how much comfort sarah russell's poem offers. i could be this woman, beautiful and free yet trapped in her shell of invulnerability; giving people merely a glimpse of herself before shutting the curtains. desperately wanting to connect, hiding parts of her in all those characters she writes; being able to undress her body but feeling utter despair when someone comes close to her soul. so tell me, which of those three lives are you living now? @girlwithwanderingthoughts

Everything dims a little when you're not around. I found a plausible explanation to that: you always wear black, which is said to contain all the other colours in it. You're the darkest rainbow I know and the only one I don't want to see in the sky for another eighty years. You wear sunglasses to protect us from your light, for it is more than we could handle. You looked at me once and your image got imprinted on my lenses. That's a good thing, I guess, for it means you'll stay with me for the time being - a generous present and a curse at the same time. For, like a rainbow, you are all too far away and I'm hardly enough to provide the right weather conditions. Those precious seconds of your presence scattered through the years is all one could wish for. Not more, not more...not anymore.

@girlwithwanderingthoughts

opposites do attract, but boy, oh boy, similarities create wildfires

we share the same burdens being born by different mothers like a side-note of your glory you excuse the monsters who are not sorry

a match bringing light to others by burning away i cannot keep you from harm but i'll gather your ashes

in case you fade first

@girlwithwanderingthoughts

those best thoughts always come at night when the body gets tired of controlling the mind and the consciousness slowly slithers away for this dreamlike state I so longinly wait

when the lights are turned off and the nightmares still haunt an other in those darkest hours I forgive myself for - not being quite right - hurting that boy - getting into another stupid fight - spending more than I should - and eating more than is right

I'd carry on but there's no more space I'm all over the place but you can't see it now before the night's over I'll collect those pieces into a crooked smile

 @girlwithwanderingthoughts

the sound of silence

I've been living on my own for seventy-two days now. You know how people count the time when they are emotionally involved in something? Well, it's all true.

Usually children are the ones who move out. In my case it happened the other way around: so here I am now, in a city I know intimately well while all my relatives are spread around Europe. In the beginning of your twenties you tie the concept of home to the place where your parents live. Well, mine are divorced; between me and the dearest person of mine lie approximately 600 kilometres and two country borders.

And still I am grateful. The little things gain so much importance when having time to process them. Solitide does that to you. In the morning, when I have to get up way too early, I light a candle and drink my tea by the faint, flickering light. I go for long walks in the sunshine and watch my dog running around in the grass and trying to befriend all the strangers we meet. Her enthusiasm is so captivating that people cannot help but smile. Sometimes, I resemble her in this regard, yet with every passing day I feel more and more like a spectator of the life of others. There is some kind of numbness and a sence of utter tranquility that comes with that. It's like the silence pulls me in and starts to make me invisible - even though at university I behave like a social butterfly.

My mother's and my grandmother's voice come like a blessing. They talk, but most importantly, they give me the space to talk freely and listen without interrupting. I often start crying all the while hating myself for making them suffer twice: once under the weight of my emotions and the second time because they are not there to wipe the tears away. Physical touch becomes a deficit when you live alone. I long being touched, caressed and hugged by the right people.

And so I keep on counting. My mom is going to visit me in ten days. Until then, it will be me, my dog and the sound of silence.

 @girlwithwanderingthoughts