Trains

"I would jump in front of a train for you" she whispered. He laughed nervously and he said something like "Don't do that, please", and she realised that he had no idea what she meant. She later explained the difference between "jumping for you" and "jumping because of you", pretending she would never do the later. He looked at her scared and the message hit his walls that were getting higher and higher with every word she said. For her it was just another romantic talk to remember, something sweet she told him while kissing his face and hands and hair. For him it was just another scary thing she said, because he did not see things the way she did. Nobody had ever jumped in front of any train, real or imaginary, neither for him, nor because of him. He was used to being pushed in front of imaginary trains and to a really messed up level that was what he thought love was. So she scared the hell out of him. This girl must be crazy... She was left alone on the life's railway, gazing in the horizon and asking what she could have done differently. She sometimes stares at trains and remembers the talk and contemplates about the possibility of taking one of those trains and leaving all behind. Because he took one train and ran away, leaving her in the train station, eyes drown in tears, waving a handkerchief like an old fashioned hopeless idiot. But if she takes another train, the pain will come with her, traveling in the same body to a different place. She would do anything to make the pain go away, train or no train, even cover it with a bigger pain in the body. Soul pain is the worst, makes you lose your mind and wish you were dead. Death must be sweeter than this, she says. She wonders sometimes if a pile of flesh left after the impact with a train would hurt as badly as a broken soul. But that would mean jumping in front of a train because of him, not for him. And she promissed not to... Trains come and go. She stays, no longer waiting, no longer hoping. She dies a bit with every train she has no courage to jump in front of.

Permissions

I kindly ask permission to suffer. I need time off to fall on the cold ground and feel it all, to collect my thoughts, to solve all the puzzles, to make sense of it all, reconstruct the truth, and breath. I need to fall deep, to the darkest abyss of them all, to feel the fear and the terror and to survive it, and to use that cold bottom as a trampoline to jump back in the game.  I need permission to be fully live for a bit, to bleed it all out, cry, shout, suffocate and breath deeply again, till I live the moment, till I gain the power to be back with you. I need permission to dissapear and to pretend and to lie and to play games and to be mean and cruel, to hide my face in order to make sure I survive this. I need to be coward for a bit, just to be able to show the courage I hold inside me.  I kindly ask permission not to care anymore, to treat all the rest with a fake smile, to turn my back at their laughter, to send them all to hell with a smile.  I kindly ask permission to search for the power to hate, the greatest power of them all. I want to hate in order to survive and to want to survive. I want the power to cross a bridge withour losing myself in denial and hope.  I kinkly ask permission to live. And to leave, to go away from it all, to hide my face for a while and uncover it later, all cried and changed forever, carved by pain and regret and questions.  I kindly ask permission to grief the loss of my soul and to wait for its return to my body, as I am empty like an airoport during pandemic, and scared and alone.  Permission granted.

Dirty window

There is blood on the window between the two of them.

Their small and secret window where they used to stare each other in the eyes and always take care to keep it clean, shiny and transparent, is stained with fresh poppy coloured blood. The hideous thing is dripping lazy all around. And they stare at the stain with no expression on their faces.

The words cut through her unprepared flesh like the angry teeth of an savage animal. She was watching her reflection on the trains that kept coming and going and she was wondering when did he ever find the time and skills to sharpen them so good and train them so well, like he had wanted to make sure the damage was guaranteed. 

At first she put some pressure on the wounds and took some distance, like a beaten dog gone away to care for herself. But then she called him back for more. She was hoping for a bandaid, but she got some more teeth. Sharper. Or maybe just as sharp, except this time the words bit her on the fresh wound. And the pain went through her bones, as the blood was splashing the spotless window.

When it was all done they tried to share the old looks through the window. But their faces seemed diformed. She tried to fake a smile hoping to bring the sun to help get some clarity, she even shed a tear or more to wash the stain away. But it was still blurry. And bloddy. And strange. And scary. 

Source

Now they stay close to the window, their foreheads separated by the glass alone, breathing quietly and waiting for a summer rain to wash away the mess.

And if there will be a dry summer, question remains who will wash away the remainings of the beast's feast on the window...

You can't kill the sun

 "You can't kill the sun" she said, her brown wet eyes stairing at him in dispair. "You can cover your skin and belongings to protect them for damage, as you well know how it can sometimes burn.

You can find ways to enjoy its gentle kiss on your face every day and benefit from its wormth and energy without focusing what damage it could cause.

Or you could lock inside and put down the blinders and pretend the sun is no longer there, but do not be naive, the sun will still shine out there, rising proudly every morning and setting satisfied in the evening, in the most incredible mix of orange and blue one could ever come to imagine.

There will be darker days when you will feel the taste of success thinking the sun is gone. But deep inside you'll know better…

Eventually due to the lack of light your skin will become transparent and the smile will fade away. You'll slowly forget the sweet taste of a sunny day and all will look like a dream or a movie, as your skin will be wet and cold and unresponsive.

The things around you, the ones you tried so hard to protect taking them away from the sun's path, will slowly lose their glow as there will be no power reflecting in them. They will learn to live without the sun and take you as their hero, for a while. They will be pale and sad and when old enough they will build dark houses with small windows covered by thick blinders. And one day the sun will kiss them too and that day you will fall from your hero throne.

Source

You can also choose to walk the world with a blindfold around your pretty eyes. But the sun will still be there burning your skin, trying hard to reflect in your eyes and warm your soul. The people around you will watch you with compassion and try to guide you from time to time. But there would never be any blue or orange in your life, just the sweet memory of the games they do every day on the sky when the time is right."


He looked her in the eyes with a half smile. And because there, in her eyes - the same eyes in the drawing, mixing some strange sadness, playfulness and mistery in a way he had never managed to completely understand - the sun was playing carelessly causing a random ray to reflect in his blue eyes, he decided to put down the blinders and go in his small dark corner to cry for a bit.

Naiva / Naive

Sursa foto

Eram doar eu si cu tine

Doua aratari ciudate dintr-o carte de povesti.

Incercand sa-mi fie bine

Te-nvatam sa ma iubesti.

Sus era cerul albastru

Prea departe sa-l cuprind.

Legana pe el un astru

Care-apuse stralucing.

Mai tarziu, dupa furtuna

Incercam sa te gasesc

Alergand ca o nebuna

Dupa visul tineresc.

A ramas o amintire

Dulce-amara, undeva,

Un ciob trist de stralucire

Cu parfum de-al altcuiva.

***

It was just you and me

Two strange illustrations from a storybook.

Trying to make me well

I was teaching you to love me.

Up was the blue sky

Too far away for me to grasp

A star hung on it

That set away brightly.

Later, after the storm

I was trying to find you

Running like a madwoman

After the youthful dream.

Remained a memory

Bittersweet, somewhere,

A sad shard of glow

With someone else's perfume.