The Sight of Breath...

Everything is a dream.

When I wake the sky and its stars,
my only sight, lay framing a picture of a winter night.
I float, as if on a calm river toward a painted waterfall.
Clouds lift me above the still but falling waters,
the rhythm of life flows through these veins, 
and my mind is my own and my heart is my own.

French Tip...

Son oeil savait larges horizons
Il était habitué aux montagnes
Et avait percé le mystére de leur grandeur
Les animaux et les oiseaux, les arbres et la terre,
les plantes et les fleurs
Lui avait enseigné le secret de l'amore.
                                  -Missak Manouchian

The first poem I learnt in French ^.^

English translation

His eye knew broad horizons

He was used to mountains

And had pierced the mystery of their grandeur.

The animals and birds, trees and

flowers, plants and the earth

Had taught him the secret of love

Untitled...

This writing has a heart beat and in the shadows of twilight as I draw my book closer, I can hear it quickening at the nearness of two souls so alike.

We Are Broken...

… And then all of a sudden the life we never had became unhinged. With the immediacy of an intake of air following an absence of breath we fell together through the darkness, our souls stitched to one another, our minds freer than the day we were born.

I Write In Darkness...

The soft morning, the nights darkness caressing the remaining light in the last moments of the day.
Kiss me on the cheek so I may remain unbroken.

Fragments of Life...

And as the crisp wandering dawn folded into day I rest peacefully in the fields enclosed in sleep. Beautiful things haunting my dreams. Two moments passed, then the sun fell onto my face, in pillars of light and warmth my stinging eyes opened. The reeds and grass below covered my hands and arms in tears as the yellow light washed their bodies with melting frost. The colours of dreams still lingered behind my eyes. The scent of perfume against her neck. The shadows of birds flying overhead helped me adjust to the day. Fragments of dust from the night still slept on my eyelashes, waiting for me to rub them away. 
If we knew that every moment was a memory and all of those stitched together make our life, would you share a moment with me? To feel the presence of life in a hallway, or a forgotten kiss placed upon your lips.

Memories...

It's not that she wasn't wonderful, it's just her life had been overtaken by better memories. Like an endless song forever preserving a moment, continuing a kiss, inspiring love. Nothing ever left her heart, but her mind was constantly giving. Her thoughts twirled around fake memories of what could have been. Nothing is worse than the feeling of life wasted.