XXLove letters

 

 

When everything was about Hunchback and the Count of Monte Cristo,

 

‘Shoes without people,

It must be a sad road,

A lonely journey,

It’s like a ship without a crew,

I ordered myself,

‘Enough daydreaming,

Enough being lazy and gentle,

Birds have been chirping,

‘Something exciting is waiting for you’,

They promised excitement to lure me out,

Suddenly I heard how insanely loud the alarm clock  had been ticking,

Shaking and stumbling the hands,

I had to forget smoking roll-ups aristocrats,

To trade them for Marlboro cigarettes,

Penniless artists, stray cats,

Street musicians and ambulance sirens,

I wasn’t invited to daylight,

I got mercilessly conned into crawling out of my burrow,

I hid the naphthalene verses in the least searched nook,

In my bohemian lair it was the safest place,

The worst version of any housewife’s horror,

I didn’t remember the last time I searched something there,

In my burrow a safe was under the bed,

It’s the same place the last time Julien looked for one of his socks,

Running away from morning sorrow,

After we had properly met,

I tried to look like a woman,

I drew an eyeliner and smeared the pink,

I put on a pair of stockings,

I closed the door behind me,

‘Take advantage of the key,

Don’t forget to lock the lock’,

Everything started moving fast-forward,

I enjoyed being myself as always late,

 ‘If I wasn’t myself but somebody else,

 I would enjoy a cup of coffee,

And a crepe at the Place du Tertre,

In thirty minutes I have to meet someone,

On the steps of   Sacre Coeur,

Never make clients wait,

I’d rather run than walk,

Go, go’,

I didn’t go to church to say one prayer or two,

I was sure a church didn’t help,

Also I didn’t trust well-rounded lips of prayers,

Since I was a kid,

I always knew what love and devotion were,

Hunchback on the roof of Notre Dame,

I wasn’t afraid of love when I was little,  

I looked around,

It was my Montmartre,

The place of the movies,

The magical streets,

The smells, the lamplights, the colors,

I loved to think that I was like the Count of Monte Christo,

I strongly disliked Madame Bovary,

I strongly disliked climbing stairs.

 

 

XXLove letters

 

 

When none of us was a fictional character yet,

 

 

It was a usual morning,

My bed had a moldy view,

It looked out at an old water stain on my ceiling,

‘This orgy of nature is to be fixed,

Zeus’ final comedown,

It compromises me,

I’ll fix it tomorrow,

Today I have something important to do’,

I had a dream,

It was so clear,

I walked by a high fence,

 The villa’s name was Balzac,

Curiosity spied on me,

Since no one was near,

I spied on its dweller,

The place looked a lot like Saint-Malo,

It was a middle-aged woman,

Her facial features were calm,

She sat in the bamboo chair,

On the white stone porch,

Under the lonely pine tree,

The sky whispered memories of Notre-Dame,

The  crown served as an umbrella,

It drizzled the soft evening sun over Brittany’s paradise slice,

The light fluttered and dived,

It did not disappear,

 It got reflected  in her blue-grey eyes,

They reminded of my Mom’s,

It contradicted silence,

It was at odds with her calm,

Something in cooing of pigeons,

In the melody of the dull surf,

In the screams of fussy seagulls,

Her gaze was  absent-minded,

It slid from her slender fingers to the tip of her cigarette,

It landed on the sheet of paper,

Near the heavy vintage ashtray,

Her eyes got darker and deeper,

They engaged in a ten year siege,

She peered into faded letters,

An ebony wood rosary paced and prayed in her reasoning hand,

‘My door is always half-open,

Life is a cigarette,

You and I are smoke,

I will try to return,

If I can,

Be my spider with blue claws,

You lurk in a lonely corner,

Waiting patiently for a moth,

With trembling and sprinkling red admiral wings,

Don’t be afraid,

Come here,

We’ll share naphthalene balls,

Feeling each other thrills’,

I tried to return,

I was nowhere,

I couldn’t find myself,

Instead there were many shoes,

Without people,

I was scattered but not scared,

There were children’s sandals, worn out and dear slippers,

Flip flops and high heels.

 

P.S. Be careful. Sometimes interventions go beyond interjections and ejaculate their own independent trajectories. It’s so complicated. The true science.

 

XXLove letters

 

When I mustn’t,

 

Sometimes I’m afraid to close my eyes,

Because I confuse ‘I must’ with ‘I want’,

How to go on,

I am afraid,

It’s not my plans,

I’ll tell you the truth,

Tonight I’ve nearly lost my mind,

I’ve nearly lost control over my wanting thought,

I said to myself ‘I must’,

I hid from myself ‘I want’,

I am afraid to keep living,

Not long ago I found myself,

Even my self is always leaving,

It is not your fault that I am falling,

If I opened the door, then it’s my fault,

You didn’t get out,

You didn’t get in,

You stood in the doorway as if you were uninvited,

I’ll tell the truth,

I was afraid,

Don’t ask the reason why,

Explanations spoil excitement,

Tonight I’ve decided to shut all the doors,

I am protected from cold and hesitation,

I was freezing,

It’s cold outside and silent inside,

I hoped to find you there,

But I wasn’t surprised,

Nobody stood in the doorway,

My face was calm and glacial,

I don’t want to answer barely breathing,

‘Thank you,

I’m fine,

Everything is almost OK,

How are you?’

‘Everything is almost perfect,

You are very kind’,

‘I am not kinder than others,

Take care of yourself’,

‘I don’t need to do’,

Something is wrong in the Kingdom of Denmark,

It’s what Shakespeare nearly said,

Reality differs,

Villains are princes,

Difference is fragile,

It’s made of crystal,

It happened once on the pages,

It happened so many times that fairy tales started telling the truth,

We are in separate rooms under threat of extinction,

Like paper oceans and stars, rivers and fake hills,

Everything isn’t the same except for the telephone call,

It reminds me of our first commitment,

I’ve never loved uncertainty,

My whole life is uncertain,

 

As if it was in its teens.

 

 

 

 

XXLove letters

 

 

 When questions were explosives mining my mind,

 

 

You are not calling,

You won’t call me,

‘It’s a meaningless trouble’ you say,

My telephone number is chewed and half-eaten,

You forgot half digits,

You don’t give answers,

You only ask why,

Answers exist to spare questions,

You want them to attack your mind,

Till they are bored and exhausted,

It is your self-preservation method,

Surprisingly it works when you deal with your dangerous past,

Your fingers have memories of their own,

I taught them to remember me,

You want to remember nothing,

It’s easy to live when we are hollow,

We know that beauty is why,

It’s questions,

They sail in the memories not making sense to anyone who isn’t us,

You are in the building,

It looks like an object,

You keep enjoying a beautiful view,

It is at the end of the sea,

Up ahead in the concrete distance,

You are a maniac,

You listen out for noises,

The right sound is stalking the moment,

All you can hear are humans,

They live like noisy objects,

You stop and set yourself free,

It doesn’t upset you,

You let yourself think whatever you want,

You let yourself think how you used to want her,

How you counted seconds,

Then seconds became months,

Months will become decades,

Diamonds will turn into fine dust,

Explain me how one phrase became an epigraph to long years of humiliation,

Don’t talk about cosmogonies,

They are weakness, debris and rot,

Why are we always monsters?

When we want others to think that we are happy,

Cold, distant, indifferent,

We neither love nor hurt,

Why do we overplay?

Tell me about the simplest,

After you take the collection from the drawer of your head,

It has an array of our magic,

Nostalgic feelings rapidly changing,

Charm of forbidden flirting,

All the beautiful moments we had,

You glance at the clock,

‘It is ten thirty,

Moreover it is p.m.

She must be home,

I’m thirsty,’

The telephone rocks the bedside table,

It has something important to tell.

XXLove letters

 

 

When I went for a walk with and without my thoughts,

 

I try to reason every step,

Using my thoughts as knives,

Cutting and slicing,

Chopping and dicing,

Paths of my mind lead up and down,

They make the right turn,

They weigh everything  stored in my head,

They scratch and scheme,

They drill my dream,

You haven’t called me yet,

What will change if you call me?

What will change if you don’t?

My night will be  one day longer,

What am I now?

It isn’t me,

For me you have never changed,

You will never change,

Do you remember my telephone number?

Do you remember your very last words?

Do you remember me?

Do you remember how I was?

What if you don’t want to talk?

What if you don’t want to remember?

Will I be ready for such a forgetful telephone call?

Will I be ready to feel what we feel,

 It is timeless and very distant,

Do I  want to revive the past?

Revolving around forever,

Do I want to re-live the turbulent times?

Patient time had  mercy on me,

I found my patience and trust,

When my hope shipwrecked in the oceans of never,

I got accustomed to the explanation,

We are not guilty,

It wasn’t us,

It was the situation,

The right feeling,

The wrong timing,

We were forced to disappear from the chaos of each other’s lives,

They say don’t bother the people that stay in your past,

Leave them in the previous season,

They are so right about others,

They are so wrong about us,

We are different,

We are unique,

We are two special stories,

Our stories are unlike the movies,

In the movies love dazzles a script,

I remember your last words that you wrote,

‘Where are you?

I’m waiting,

I’ll always wait’,

Do you remember ‘I’ll always wait’?

We still haven’t written the end.

 

XXLove letters

 

 

 

 

When scars were buried under snow,

 

Nobody is to be killed,

Everyone will be kind,

It is too late,

You’ll understand later,

You won’t be surprised,

Their eyes will explain,

It’s pointless to start from scratch,

It’s rude to storm into fate’s head,

In swirls of afternoon dust,

It’s vintage to swear in roofless divine chambers,

The first winter without you,

Winter gives us a chance to change ourselves and something,

To take a cold look at the past,

To find a cool point of view,

The sky and the stars go black,

The city is not the same,

It’s very quiet,

It’s new,

It is very clean,

Snow is bleaching silence,

It’s night,

It crumbles like sugar powdered biscuits,

As if the past was erased,

 And as if nothing had happened,

As if I hadn’t cried,

As if over there across the street of my mind I hadn’t been deceived,

As if I hadn’t felt happy when I closed your front door,

As if I hadn’t lied to myself in this room,

When I looked out my window,

And stared, and stared at sinewy pavements,

In utter despair,

As if I hadn’t flooded the sidewalks,

As if I hadn’t shed tears for you,

As if I hadn’t died of my love,

As if the walls hadn’t spied on my sadness,

As if I had never felt being all alone inside,

As if I hadn’t mourned,

As if I hadn’t died,

Everything is white and new,

As if only beautiful things had happened,

I roamed the city,

I breathed,

I infused it with my presence,

I was everywhere,

I knew,

I stepped on snow,

It hissed and squeaked,

The first snow without you,

How beautiful,

 How peaceful,

 

P.S. As if nothing bad had ever happened,

 

As if I had never fallen for you.