Evidence of an Injured Mirror

Caring too much if we are loved even when we don’t care back
Surviving our own delusions for a life time
Longing for too long in places we don’t belong
Staring at familiar imperfections along the way
Re-inventing the wrongs of the past with masochistic grandeur
Hallucinating our worth, resuscitating hope
Changing our minds after forgiving our trespassers
Taking everything back and returning the gifted testimonials
-To puzzle the senders -
Expecting it will cut out for good the old good days that we leave behind
Ostracized by revengeful scenarios,
Fraternizing with temporary allies that we formerly used to despise,
Racing against imagined enemies, beside imaginary friends
Oversleeping and being late
for life-changing dates which never take place
Crying the same
on weddings and funerals
Looking up words which don't exist in advanced learners'dictionaries
Unable to tell the difference between a fake smile and a self-destructive pride
Mutilating our hopes, amputating our desires,
Not-knowing
We only have deeds to regret instead of feelings or thoughts.

Impersonal Memorabilia

since you promised me we’d transcend time
right from this earthly place we call home
my affinity has decided to disobey
all logic,ignore all its visible threats
and despise the strings of reason instead;
your vows never spoiled the purity of a soul
even though they fail to share or divide
its divine memories and moments of doubt
with a humanity
turning its pace, its peaceful expectations and concrete reality
into brightly lit slogans and rhyming oaths.
I believe it is environmentally friendly nowadays
to recycle Valentine cards, to re-use them to advertise
the universal symbols of mutually consented feelings
at a half-confessed price
from admiration to attraction
lies a dessert of what-if’s and guilt on sale
-revealing the imperfections of mind-
the unsatisfactory choices of bargaining
for a less than decorative heart -
the bitter taste of a sweet defeat, of temporary compromise.
Right after the loss of hope a new miracle is born
whose ascension of depths from neglect
is portrayed again and again
into a mirror whose vulnerabilities
overlook the absorption of faith;
like a fate pilgrim with closed eyes
at the always noble shrines of deceit and regret
overcoming the old and forgotten middle-February-relics
I’m still waiting for an answer virtually impossible to collect.

Catachretic Request

If I expressed all my feelings
You’d need more than a Noah’s ark
to save yourself from the flood;
If I wanted to pursue all my dreams
You’d need more than Daedalus’s pair of wings
to fly away into the skies. So, just stay.
I promise you no supernatural.
No mythology . No fable. No folklore.
Just an hour
to forget everything
about allegories and abstract metaphors.
I’ve always known we could have this
Without flying a single wing,
Without any figures of speech.