Bailando contigo...

I've always wanted to share a dance on a song like this... With someone who loves me. Someone I love. This someone will turn this song on, will pull me closer to feel the smell of my skin, will look into my eyes, like in a mirror, will caress my hair to feel how soft it is, will whisper in my ears the most tender words, will give me the most charming smile, will allow me to lay my head on his strong shoulder, leading me far far away, to a different world, magical world, where the air is filled with the smell of his perfume, where I am the most wanted, the most loved, the chosen one!
Me, him, the music and the dimmed light. The rest is only silence... because those who love can say the most beautiful words without speaking...

Wanting...

I want to be a lost poem in a stranger's coat pocket, that conveys the importance of you.
To assure you of my desire, to assure you of dreams. I want all the possibilities of you in writing.
I want to give you your reflection, I want your eyes on me, I want to travel to the lightness with you and stay there, and I want everything before you...
...everything before you to follow us like a trail behind me.
I want never to say goodbye to you, even on the street corner or the phone.
I want, I want so much... I'm breathless.
I want to put my power into a poem to burn a hole in your pocket so I can sew it.
I want my words to scream through you. I want the poem not to mean that much.
And I want to contradict myself by accident, and for you to know what I mean.
I want you to be distant and for me to feel you close, I want endless days when it's day and... nighttime never to end when it's night.
I want all the seasons in one day. I want the sun to set before us and come up in front of us.
I want to think your thoughts because they're mine.
I want only what's urgent with you.
I want to get in the way of the barriers and I want you to be a tough guy when you're supposed to,
like you do already.
...when you're supposed to. And I want you to be tender, like you do already.
And I want us to have met for a reason and I want that reason to be important.
And I want it to be bigger than us, I want it to take over us.
I want to forget. I want to remember us.
And I want your smile always, and your grimaces too.
I want your scar on my lips, and I want your disappointments in my heart.
I want your strength in my soul and I want your soul in my eyes.
I want to believe everything you say, and I do.
And I want you to tell me what's best when I don't know.
And when you're lost I want to find you.
And when you're weary I want to give you steeples and cathedral thoughts and coliseum dreams.
I want to drag you from the darkness and kneel with you exhausted with the blinding light blaring on us... and...

Distracted

It’s happened again

I can’t keep my mind on the task at hand

You’re bad for my work

But so good for my health

You make me smile

When I really don’t think I can

Even this next line

Isn’t coming out how I want it to

My vision goes blurry

Reliving memories of days past

The conversations

The silences

That doesn’t happen too often

I wonder if you realise all this

I would never tell you

It’s probably not good for your health

But it might be

You just never know

Could be nothing

I hope it’s not.

What I wanted to tell you on Valentine's Day...

Miss me, regret me.

I could have given you everything. I want you to miss it.

if you disappear now forever,
know that it was too soon
for me to write
a poem about you
and you’ll maybe regret that...

It is not your memories which haunt you.
It is not what you have written down.
It is what you have forgotten, what you must forget.
What you must go on forgetting all your life...

Love and other disasters

Ако любовта си е наумила отново да се изкачи на най-горното стъпало на приоритетите ми, надявам се да почака, преди да помете всичко по пътя си. След пет години упорито отричане на планирането, най-после склоних да имам план. Щастлива съм да мисля, че стъпка по стъпка го осъществявам. Моля те, любов, не ме прецаквай.

***

Да влезнеш в някого физически или да оставиш някой да влезне в теб означава безвъзвратно да изгубиш този човек. Само с този, който е влезнал в теб емоционално, можеш да познаеш интимност...

That's the way it goes...

That's the way it always goes... At first very little is enough. A minor thing. Even the hope itself is enough. And you are happy. Unbearably happy that you don't have anything. Because every smile is unique. Every gesture is meaningful and promises Heaven. Every letter is filled with strange, charming meaning that only you could understand.

You are happy to see the green icon in skype, the dots, the brackets, the dashes... The mere thought that he is somewhere there and is probably doing something at the moment. Maybe sleeping. Or writing. Or reading something carelessly lying on the sofa. Or watching TV and drinking beer.

And the most important now is that you don't need anything! You just want to be close to him sometimes. To watch him eating sushi. Or closing his eyes because of the sun. Or playing the guitar, watching you standing there not daring to breathe scared to ruin the moment... and smiling.

Enough, completely enough is just listening to his voice. The way he talks. Or how he laughs. With magical, uncomparable laughter. Or how he sings. Exactly the song you want to hear at the moment. Touching your heart and soul.

And it doesn't matter that he is thousands of miles away... You don't notice it. For now. Because for now it is enough.

***

I was listening to a song thinking of how you move me
You do not see me watching now
It is clear to me that I want to be
Where my eyes can see, where my heart can feel, where my soul can trust...
You must know I cannot go on more
Without a touch, without a taste
Without a doubt we cannot waste our precious time...

Thinking of you...

Мисля за теб,
далеч от теб и
ти желая всичко,
което не можах
да намеря в живота...

Мисля за всяка
неизказана дума във
всяко ненаписано писмо
и всички срещи, за които
никога нямаше време...


Мисля за теб...

Taste of life...

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could...

Wanting...

I want you to feel

the unbearable lack of me.

I want your skin

to yearn for the soft lure of mine;

I want your head to be dizzy

and your stomach in a spin;

I want you to hear my voice

in your ear, to touch your face

imagining it is my hand.

I want your body to shiver

at the mere idea of mine.

I want you to feel as though

life after me is dull, and pointless,

and very, very aggravating,

and that with me you were lifted

on a current you waited all your life to find,

and had despaired of finding,

as though you were walking

through a world of emptiness and ugliness

every minute we are apart.

I want you to drive yourself crazy

with the fantasy of me,

and how we will meet again, against all odds,

and there will be tears and flowers,

and the vast relief of not I,

but us.

To him again...

I avoid speaking your name in conversation, throwing it to the air as if it is nothing more than an assumption of you; it is my last mode of defence. The last item of clothing to discard before I realise I’m naked in public.

Because they can hear it in my voice. I know. Even in that one short syllable that means everything and nothing; your name is as common as you are rare. As easy as you are not. As simple as love should be, but never is.

But when I’m alone, I tie my tongue softly round the familiar sound, as if pronouncing with conviction the phonetics of desire will cause time to pause just long enough for the earth to hear me naming my loss.

***

My eyes opened.
I gained the whole world
and lost you.

To my best friend

we are the lovesick. the fearless ones. the never giving up.

the hearts undone. sick with the desire to love. to live so far

beyond the boundaries given to us.

we are the fence-hopping fools who never stopped reading the signs. the ones that left

the world behind. just moments in the sea of time.

we are the lost ones wandering. last to be found. we are the

ever-refusing to fold. to fade away or worse-to lose. the few that

bend and break apart the cages of our rules. born desperate for the

promise of the mystery unknown. we are the lovesick. and just like

the sun we will always rise. hope still shining in our eyes...

***

Today I found the receipt for the blouse that we bought together... With date and time back in May... My birthday... reminding me with an empty pit in my stomach about the hours we had together...

...When someone is not from here and is for a short time in your life, you want to do absolutely everything except loving him.... You try for a short time to share and show everything that excites you, the places that you like, the books that impress you, the movies that you rate over the middle, the corners of your soul in which you place Him with the hope that he will stay there when all finish...

...When you want to put borders between Today and Tomorrow in order to isolate and secure the Tomorrow from the things that happen Today, you use all the possible means you can think of. Because you want to take everything from this moment, without paying for it later... You want not to close your eyes and the sleep becomes unnecessary. You want to hug without remembering after, if possible... Only that the arms sometimes do not forget so easily... You want to run, but you want to stay too...

LONG DISTANCES ARE FOR RUNNING, NOT FOR LOVING.

Well, it's only that I failed in long-distance running, but I have an excellent mark on loving... YOU.

Sometimes you just turn out to be on the wrong exam.

Wake up!

You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world,

and you believe you are living.

Then you read a book… or you take a trip…

and you discover that you are not living,

that you are hibernating.

The symptoms of hibernating are easily

detectable: first, restlessness.

The second symptom (when hibernating

becomes dangerous and might degenerate

into death): absence of pleasure.

That is all.

It appears like an innocuous illness.

Monotony, boredom, death.

Millions live like this (or die like this)

without knowing it.

They work in offices.

They drive a car.

They picnic with their families.

They raise children.

And then some shock treatment takes place,

a person, a book, a song, and it awakens

them and saves them from death.

Some never awaken.