Portraits of time.

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  • Simple war
     

    and out from the woolen threads 
    my hairs was made,
    eyes as hazel as it could get 
    but could only stare 
    forever into the soul
    that - 
    you never made. 

    And I don't know why I was decorated so well 
    that one could buy ! 
    Every pedestrians when pass by
    make faces
    to that creature without the soul,
    framed so well.  
    but will they ever know that I already know ? 
     
    Oh and now someone leaves me on the table, 
    hurridly, she sits in front of mirror, 
    looks at me every now and then 
    and draws that five moles exactly the same way
    and she looks at me again
    as if it meant I had to look
    at the process of me while being created, 
    Oh, one with the soul, 
    why you want to look alike 
     to the one without the soul ? 





     
  • This never ending tales of hands, hands that couldn't rest 
    to make more memories on the ground of our skin 
    from where we used to see the light of sky,
    remember? 
     
    I never wished you did 
     
    oh ! you are fading away 
    deeply into the winter of lies 
    it's so cold there
    that you hibernate forever 
     
    and in that never ending tales of  my hands, 
    you will be frozen by time
    where your ice will never melt.
     
     
     
     
     
  • million faces of you dancing before you 
    every face dances like never before ,
    every other time, so beautifully 
    to get the pearl covered inside the shell 
     
     
     
  • It won't be the same.
    Because you won't be the same. 
    Time was neither you nor me
    but
    if we could stop time for once
    and be able to look at us twice; 
    you being you, me being me
    again- you being me, me being you
    then,
    perhaps, it all would remain the same. 
     
    oh.. if we could stop.....
    stop that fastly flying time !
     
     
     
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    IF I WRITE?
    IF I WRITE IT ALL DOWN HERE.