Raven

 

He visits my window every morning

Proud, beautiful and bizarre

Rejected by others, alone

But gifted with extraordinary power

Marvellous wings

Shine in my darkness

Where the light

Makes me sick.

He soars with the wind

To fly in his loneliness

Innocent but meant to be alone

Till the end of his days

He appears in my window

And he looks into my soul

Fulfilling it with his power

And making me feel calm 

When he flies away I know

He will be back

Forever connected

With the chain of similarities

Me and my white raven

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When I got letter from You

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It’s 4.30pm in Preston,

Another cloudy but warm Thursday.

It’s 2010 and I’m sat on the floor in the attic.

I take my eyes off the envelope in front of me

and smell the summer breeze.

I can’t bring myself to read it, it’s too hard.

Even gentle waves on the river, I can hear through the open window,

won’t calm me down.

The door slams downstairs and I immediately jump up

and run barefoot. I don’t care that the carpet is still dirty

from the Saturday’s party.

I give Darla a hug , her hair is still wet from the rain

and it leaves a big dark stain on my new silk blouse.

She follows me into the kitchen for a refreshing glass of Dr Pepper

and we both agree to go for a walk –

– it seems like a perfect way of running from my fear,

that’s still lying on that cold attic floor waiting for me to face it.

We walk towards the park and talk about Darla’s new boyfriend

and other trivial things, but I’m struggling to take my mind off the letter.

On the way to the park we nip to the small shop on the corner of Taylor Street

and buy couple of bottles of Corona and a box of Menthol Pall Malls.

I instantly open the packet and light a cigarette

thinking about the show I saw earlier on You Tube.

It was a comedy and the content was rather weak but I remember this guy

claiming that men have a ‘nothing box’ in their brains, and that they can

run into it whenever they want.

At this moment in time I wish I had a ‘nothing box’ in my head.

The sun begins to set and as we take the last sip of, already warm, Corona

we start making our way back home.

It’s almost 7 and I feel restless. As we walk into the house I hear my friends’ excited

voices in the kitchen, but I don’t stop, I run upstairs – suddenly impatient.

I sit on the freezing cold floor and start reading. My hands are shaking and I can hear

Byórk’s ‘Army of Me’ being played in the room downstairs.

And then, just like that, my world falls apart.

Bridge

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Do you remember those stars?

Their sharp almost unreachable arms

Pierced my heart so many times

It’s now numb from sorrow.

You’re still here…

Not physically,

But you are.

Everyday…

Every second..

When I rewind the frames of my memory

Or when I sail on the river of my thoughts

Every snapshot

And every flash of light

Is you.

Do you remember the delightful mornings

On our beloved fields of gold?

Or our passionate dance

vibrating in the darkness?

Or the whispering nights

Interrupted  by the melody in our ears?

Do you remember when us two

Became one?

One perfect unity

Floating to the rhythm

Of the pulsating dance floor.

But this picture fades away

With every drop of time.

And as long as the rest of hope

Holds the bridge between us

There’s still a way back…