I see you everywhere.
I see you on a street with another woman –
I see you wearing black tie at receptions,
Without a glass of champagne –
And at hallways of big, important, silent places…
I see you talking from stage – and at me,
Although – who knows – if it’s me there at all,
Even I can’t tell in the dark…
Or rushing past rapidly,
On terraces of certain members clubs,
So exclusive, that they are mostly empty –
Yet, you never see me.
I see you at prominent people’s funerals…
Yes, that’s me, look, look, over there, look!
In that waving, solemn, faceless… crowd – me,
In my blue dress, my red lipstick, my black shades,
Glancing, looking, gazing, staring – at you.
Must be the shades,
I saw you saying goodbyes and hellos,
I got a picture of you, as a proof,
That I see you,
That I am not going mad.
I want you to see me, too.
But you only see me when I speak.
And that is not seeing –
That is called “listening”.
You do not even see me now –
Or maybe you don’t see me
Simply because you are taller?
Tall people are lucky!
They always look down on everyone else,
While everyone else has to look up.
That is unless I stand on a chair,
However, I do not always have a chair to stand.
I prefer sitting and walking to standing.
I am certainly not so keen on waiting,
Waiting whether you will look down
To pick me up and put me up on a chair,
So that we’re on par,
And can look into each other’s eyes –
Seeing is more difficult than it seems.
It is even harder when you have eyes that see,
And yet you are – or you choose to be –
I wasn’t allowed to dream,
But everywhere I looked –
I only saw him.]]>
Not allowed to ask questions,
With no permission to meet,
Inappropriate of me to complain,
Or challenge anything, God forbid.
Words that cannot be traced back to you –
You have never said.
Glances and smiles exchanged –
All made up in my head.
Those soft kisses on my cheeks –
I’d better forget –
I am imagining it all,
I am completely and utterly mad.
Walk off me whenever you want,
Cut my tongue out, if you must,
I am helpless to do anything,
With the subtlety built on trust.
We can quarrel forever,
We can break up and stop talking for good.
But sooner or later,
In such a small world we live,
Our paths will cross…
We will chance upon each other,
Accidentally notice one another
In a crowded bar
While waiting for a friend or a date…
I will be in a short summer dress;
You can be in your stripy blue shirt
The one that you love wearing
With the cufflinks I once gave you
Hoping they will link us for life…
One glance we will throw at one another,
Only one simple glance without memories,
Spared of history between us,
One glance as if we have only just met
And have only known lust…
One glance – we cannot stop or help it –
We will inevitably seize being able to forget
How good it was to kiss those lips,
How good it felt to touch your skin,
How I was running out of breath
When you looked at me the way you did.
We swore never to speak again
But when passion comes back
There is no way out of it for anyone,
The only way is back.]]>
Tomorrow is Tomorrow.
I might never discover
What it is like
For me to be with you –
“You are one in a million!”
That you can wank off at the mere thought of me,
That you get hard when someone mentions my name,
To chain me, to punish me, to teach me,
To take me through a beautiful hell.
I found it all so romantic and wonderful.
You treated me like a man should:
A lady at all times but a whore in the bedroom.
And I have never even cooked for you.
Today you left,
Left me with a non-making-sense:
“I won’t miss you at all”.
You didn’t say it – radio did,
But you agreed, nodded.
Tomorrow you returned.
Couldn’t fight it, called it “addiction”,
Believed that “we only live once”.
I couldn’t stop you – you liberated me –
How could I go back into the cage
Of stereotypes, and imposed rules,
Abusive stability that kills our freedom,
You made me happy when I thought nothing could.
Not only physical but also a friendship of spirits.
Pulled me out of my fall, and I was grateful.
But today and tomorrow – especially tomorrow –
I knew you hated me.
Despised me for being here for you,
For being available,
For not stopping you from yourself,
Your lover, your mistress, your mistake.
You returned, but sex lost its colouring,
Lost its chains, charms, and its power,
Lost itself, lost us, has become pointless,
Asexual, tired, fake, foreign, alien, not ours,
Or in other words
Just a habit that we developed,
Like the habit you have with her.
When it was passion it wasn’t a sin,
Now it is.]]>
Spoilt rotten with irresponsible fairy-tales
About some prince on a white horse
On a mission to rescue his princess.
I wasn’t a princess.
I didn’t need to be rescued.
But… I believed. I hoped. I was romantic.
“He will find you,” Mummy always said.
“Who is “He”?”
“You will know it when you meet Him.”
I thought He would know too…
Happy bullshit fed to a hungry fantasy.
Moonlight walks hand in hand…
Master and Margarita. Almost.
Now I prefer dark rooms with all lights off.
And no stars outside. Please.
Flower withering in my vase,
Silently, and alone, stubbornly proud,
Exuding the most intoxicating odeur.
I bought it, and I am enjoying its death,
I have the right to.
Days pass, nights have already passed.
“What do you see in me?”
I was romantic….]]>
I have “never” said.
Thought it was not in my fate –
Or nature – to do it.
Fate has never been up to me.
And my nature only fate knows.
It was so simple, easy.
He was there – I was alone.
You can call it “a sin”.
Why not? I used to.]]>
On your soul made of sweet dreams, smiles and hopes,
On this piece of meat with jaded skin and jaded feelings,
Sliding downhill in life on a black run of its rocky slopes.
Proudly. You’re wearing a label of nature’s master,
And yet you’re a slave – abused – but fed and full,
Sleep-walking into unknown success and familiar disasters,
Politically correct and out-of-passions fool.
Proudly. Coward of a human that insists on being
With a detrimental inability of acting like one should,
Vegetable-to-be, slave now and a former human with no meaning,
You are just like all of us… Look around, and be rude.]]>