Archive for the ‘amore della mia vita’ Category

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He didn’t have many fancy words for her. He had never been good with words. He had always envied the eloquence with which she spun around syllables into sweet sounding blues revering his body and his being. But he could not say much to her.

He could not tell her that he saw when her face changed colors, when all of sudden in the middle sentence she fell into a thought, the way she went quiet and inside her own head, doing her own thinking, of how her lips pursued when she did so and how badly it made him wanted to kiss her. He could not tell her that he knew she resisted intimacy especially afterwards when she would turn and sleep on her side of the bed but that later in the night she would curl into his shoulder and hold him and breathe with him. He could not tell her that he knew that sometimes she just lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

He could not tell her that he saw how full of life she was, especially in the mornings, especially when he touched her soft and rough. He did not tell her that he knew how her eyes shone when she had a new idea. He could not tell her that he had heard her sing often while cooking for him. He did not tell her how amazing her hands felt all over body, his back and his chest, and that the smell of her oils still linger around his home.

He never possessed the brevity to express his admiration for the little things she did, for the little things that he saw. That is why he never told her. And that is why she never knew.

lonely_girl_in_the_bus-1543481 (1)

You know what happens when people you love, people you care for, you know what happens when these people are suffering, are in pain, are lost, are an emotional mess and there is absolutely nothing, nothing that you can do about it.

That is the first time you feel helpless. That is how you learn the word.



Its been a very long time and on those walks through the green lanes of the dusty memories you have faded into oblivion. Consciously you had been uncoupled a long time ago the subconscious uncoupling took a little longer and though the spark of your black eyes still shines through my being I have forgotten the touch of your voice.

In the alleys of rationality I had nailed parts of you to the walls and flowingly concluded that you were but a myth in my head, an obsession of mine. That you were not real but a creation of my own. I have walked through those alleys over and over again, looked at those parts and applauded myself at your creation. But as the alleys widen into the light of your laughter my heart aches for that which I have not known and cries for that which I have.

And now that I have painted you so beautifully onto this canvas I am tired. I feel the summer breeze through my hair and I am tired. Tired of you hanging on to the ends of the new memories that are being formed, tired of you running in my blood as I blush at virgin praises, tired of your voice in head and your words on my lips. I am tired. Of you. And your existence.


come and be human with me
eat nothing that means us both leaving the house
sit on the floor in strange places

and sleep in familiar beds
i will make art, not for,but about you
speak truths while you are sleep and wake you with hands
we will dive deeply into one another
and start out of our weary heads

we will argue in glorious fireworks
i will throw words, you will break my guitar
remind ourselves that it’s something worth burning
and be all the better for making up

come and eat cereal late at night
in silence, undressed on the kitchen counter
be far too tired for tomorrows long stroll
in love, just enough for waking up

come, in your own time, and human be,
yours politely,
lonely me

This poem is called Polite Plea. It is written by Keaton Henson. Thank you Keaton Henson for writing such a beautiful poem

Image Credits – Picz


The future I see, silly silly me-
there is a forest and the forest is green
U take my hand, just like when we were 15

You hold me close, you let me go
You play with me, I play with you
Hope on hand, a wish I blew

See, do you see, how I see?
A green land,our cottage by the shore
Laughing, singing, making love on the floor
Sleepless nights, broken guitars and black tea?

Silly silly me, the future I see
The forest is green, a forest I see
You and me, me and you, between trees green
The future I see, silly silly me.

Image link – here

How do these things change,
how will it go away,
why do i still hear your voice
in our words which others say?

Metaphysical arguments
Rational reasonings
A forward outlook
and yet – my soul-

It breathes – your name –
My body, it feels – your being –
My ears, they hear – your laugh –
My heart, it longs – your heart.


Picture link – Perfection in Black and white

Failing hope
Are you the one??
Then –
My words you spoke
My song you sung.


I knew then
that you were the one
when your words were
from the song I sung

Which one of the above, do you think better describes the feeling of finding someone who knows the words to your song?


The picture has been downloaded from a site called favim.

When the silence of the empty hours gnaws at my broken soul I think of that night when we lay together, my head resting on your arm and your other hand on my back.

I do not wonder then do you think of me like I still think of you, I do not wish to know whether your love for me was an illusion which you painstakingly painted with every whispered song in my ear.

Love, what a funny silly word.

When I think of that night,  I curse not our fate, I damn not the circumstance. I am not angry at what it had been and how it could have been. I do not sulk at the unfavorable turn of events.

It really does not pain me that you are not around, I don’t think I miss you much. I still do hear you in my head but your voice is slowly fading.

It should have been, I never lament. I am just glad, that it was. That you are. That we were. 


This one comes from a book in my good looks and I am sure most of you know the book –

I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning of everything.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald


great gatsby quotes

Take some time out and check out other amazing black and white moments here – Perfection in Black and White and A Happier Life

If I stole the stars for you
would you bring me the moon?
we could dance across the galaxies
and sing along to our own tune



Take some time out and check out other amazing black and white moments here – Perfection in Black and White and A Happier Life