Trying to hold things together when they are not meant to be held,
Trying to control my emotions that they cannot be controlled..
Trying to pick up the pieces for something falling apart..
Trying to lie to the time so i can get back to the start..
Trying to erase the marks left so deep on my skin..
Trying to remember the old so i can start over from where we used to begin..
Trying to make you feel the love and emotion, hoping you’ll see the same passion that once drove us forward..
Trying to keep myself aware of still been alive but once I realised I’m without you I can’t help but only start falling apart..
Trying to summon the past so you can remember your love but only in vain because there is nothing of US that stood though the time and remained..
I keep on trying in sorrow and pain i keep on walking against all odds so you can love me again…..
But it was only me who was trying all along your love wasn’t dying… it was never there at all…

I am

I’m not blue any more.
I’m purple and grey.
I’m  the magic of time and the hidden power of the burning flame.
I’m the mystery deep within the thunderstorm.
I’m the power of the smallest gestures.
I’m the closest thought in your soul.

What hurts the most

What hurts the most is living with a lie, with a fake image created in your own mind, fed to your consciousness thousands of times to the point you believe it’s real. It has absolutely everything in it the absurdness of it’s making to the foolishness of belief it’s real. The terrible thought that knowing your own demons you become  your biggest enemy. The one who knows your biggest secrets and fears and has the reach of everything you are even the dustiest corners of your soul. That other you becomes the creator of  the twisted and wicked way of wrapping your own self in the warmness and the tenderness of something fictional that suits that broken you just perfect. The perfect illusion you need to comfort yourself and to make the matters worst you never forget that deep inside how awfully wrong it’s to believe it’s all true, but for the present moment it’s the perfect “bandage” for your wounds.

The only problem it that this “bandage” doesn’t help you heal it only makes your wounds deeper and bigger and it doesn’t let them close and even if it does the scars it leaves are there to remain…..


The hidden door to the forbiden past

I will tell you a story, a story about magic, love, power, believe and hope. Story so unique for everyone and still so powerful and magnificent each time. The story of the captured memories, the essence of life and the one holding it’s fragile begging. The one and only story that is told without any words but says so much more than any words could ever do. The story imprinted on single piece of  paper  meaning more than a whole book with words. The story of the golden holders called photographs…

Those mighty worriers hold the unexplainable emotion, the sense of time lost gone and forgotten by our own self. From the marvelous moments of our childhood; those secret moments of great power to learn to walk and talk for the first time, the evident love and  sense in the faces near us, the hope for the great future and the happiness of the present. The magic of the moment unspoken and unchanged in time.And all you need is one simple look and it feels like you are there, you can feel them, hear the voice, smell the air around it’s like you are living that forbidden past life again and you… you are there in the split second between past and present you rule the time and space… fascinating how much of us a single photo can hold; the smiles and the tears, the the beauty in the change of time and seasons, the aging, the change, the transition, the lost and past;  full of soul and spirit, and the beauty how some are just lost moments capturing the time that can’t be returned but till never be lost nor forgotten.

This is the way of deceiving the past and getting back what once was ours not as clear and as warm as it used to be but still something that we thought we will never be able to have back. The one way of breaking the warden of the past , the unique gift we are given; the flashback of the time we can’t rewind and live back in.  And it’s funny how you can get so much hope for the future looking into the past and how much stronger you feel knowing you have all of your precious moments cared for, captured, almost like they are tattooed on your mind once you glance at the them, making you feel you belong somewhere and you should be proud to be who you are because you have so much behind you. And it’s it the magic of making the impossible possible and having and holding what you have been told you can’t have back and believing, drifting between the time and space lost in emotions for that embrace with the known and longed for  by simply opening your heart to relive the moment you so long longed to recapture….