Shysie

English Version

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You love a piece of hell that’s pierced by the sun
Just a lure that comes as an oasis in your dreams
but alas, do you remember how the fire burns in us?
Or did you get lost in that tight compromise…

There’s no more sun in your eyes when I’m away
And I wear broken wings when missing you
It’s getting colder in my soul and it’s already night
And still my  thoughts  will not sit quietly.

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I got you under my skin. Volcanic, hot as a young hope and relentless as my dreams.
I wear you every morning. Wear your smile on my lips and your caress in my hands.
You sneaked in a corner of my soul and you’ve built there an impenetrable shelter. Step by step, a fortress.
I am a canvas, stretched in your arms. You let your colors describe me, with every whisper and gesture.
Paint my destiny and I will get you inked into my skin as a perfume that smells like forever.
Be a traveler in my dreams, so that I can carve you into the heart that misses you so much.
I got you under my skin. Through my hair. On lips and hands. I hide you in my heart and I long…

 

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I wipe the solitude from my wounds
When I am asked for porcelain face.
I discharge my fire-devoured eyes
When there’s announced a clear blue sky.
I barely banish the dryness of my lips
When I want to feel the kiss of the sun.
I wash my tribal signs once more
For the freedom of the evening winds …

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We are like butterflies
living just a day on earth.
We vibrate like two colors
yet undefined.
Seeking freedom,
While depending on others.
We believe in beauty,
Although we have not seen it yet.
We are just ourselves
Foreigners among words,
But linked through gesturesfile3991254172105

 

Looking for affection where there is disappointment.
In search of the perfect moment that others chase a lifetime;
hilarious devotion or certainty that we can do more?
You never know a person until you see her truly happy.
And today I read love in your eyes
as if love is poetry written in one’s soul and tears.
Yes, tears … as love itself is a tear.
Or a smile …  can you ask for more when you have everything?
I read in your smile that the whole world exists …
Do you ever read me too?

Do you guess my serenity in an embrace?
The world only exists so that we can live in it …

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“And why would I want to not look back? Why delete, forget, throw away?

We lie to ourselves by constantly believing that if we end a chapter in our lives, that door will not open again, not ever. I’m looking through the keyhole like a curious child and relive certain moments so intensely …

Felts as if it was two heartbeats ago. Irregular, sometimes fast, sometimes “normal”.

Twisted, bipolar, nerve-wrecking….

I keep every smile that I was given and every furtive glance. I wonder how many such treasures can fit into a soul without being forgotten, distorted by the passing of time.

I am a sea … an ocean maybe … with waves that passionately break the shore, embracing rocks with thousands of sharp corners, only for them to retire into the depths while collecting any frail stone in their way, spoils of war. Any wandering soul that made the mistake stand in the way. ”

Suddenly I wake up. I do not know what time it is or what date, now when the sun floods the small white room with a view over the whole world. And I take you in my arms, wandering soul, before the tide would come and you’d become a simple rock on my seaside….

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He sits under the shelter of branches that are dried for centuries, with darkness eating from his palm and the night creatures sneaking up on him.

The bark is scratching his back, leaving superficial marks on the skin and heart, it’s too late now.

In a moment of weakness, he felt betrayed and closed himself within his shell. Now there is only him, the darkness and the night creatures, forever cursed to fear daylight.

He tried so many times to remember the sound of music or the caress of salty waves on the skin. But his only music is the owl song, and the waves have turned into frost and cold rains.

He got used to it tough … began to love the smell of wet grass and green wood, all these seem to have become a part of him, of the baby let-me-be…. the baby I-want-to-forget.

Cruel delusion is written in the eyes of the baby-cry, who withdraws withdraws withdraws………

Will he ever find babies-smile in his world again?

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Life, you playful child, sleep easy …
I feel your hands hot and heavy on my shoulders, but you do not care, your eyelashes are tangled in fluff clouds and a piece of smile stands for my shy rainbow.
You often give me stripes of sun and blue sky, both in my heart and out, and then, in a moment, you change 180 degrees and start throwing arrows in all directions.

 

A storm here, a pinch of longing there, and thousands of tears all around.
You are a child, moody and picky. You stir my senses in danced steps and make my heart beat louder; you fill my soul with love and flowers and summer.
But this picture quickly gets boring and you start your forge on another finger painting at random, without any specific purpose.
Today you learned how to combine cold colors and, without asking me what I want, you started mixing all shades of blue and slowly stretch them on canvas.
Strip by strip, you painted waves. Much agitated turbid water and sky so dark that you almost failed to distinguish the horizon. All details are intertwining, they come to life before my eyes and I find myself trapped underwater.
You like the new game, it is so unpredictable. I want to fill my lungs with air, but whatever I do I fail to rise to the surface. As of pure malice, you sometimes drop a bubble of air in my direction, just enough to get me going for another 5 seconds of torment.
And my heart is breaking my chest though it’s so quiet around….. All sounds are clogged, as if they shyly come from somewhere far away from below.
I drift through the shades that you drew me.
Don’t you want to try another picture?

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It’s been a while since I last wrote you, but you understand. You know I get lost in the crowd, through colorful dreams or black and white moments and I forget myself, I forget to watch the mirror that dwells in my soul.
I already said I love people, right? It sounds so cliché, naïve even, but I have loved all the people in my life, without exception. Everyone has something unique, that defines it and separates it from others.
They say it’s risky to believe in people, to be able to give the presumption of innocence until proven guilty and not the reverse. But I cannot live in a world where suspicion reigns, I guess.
We all make mistakes and hurt, either we do harm to ourselves or others. Some do it without realizing, some on purpose. But even they have the impulse to act with malice because of past disappointments, a discharge, correct or not.
We’re human and we all have flaws, as well as we have qualities. Those who cannot see in the people around them at least a glimmer of goodness, innocence or tenderness, are empty. Wicked, suspicious, and suspected by others in turn.
Detka, do you still believe in innocence? Are you still willing to give a first chance before investigating and looking for any sign of blame in a person?
It’s a risky job to do that, right?
I think I have more to gain than to lose. I think everyone is beautiful in his own way. Each person hides a playful and innocent child deep inside her. And everyone feels emotions, pain, happiness, and love equally as those around him. Everyone has the right to fight for a better personal universe.
I read sincere concern, kindness and emotion today in the eyes of strangers when someone got sick, his body gave out and he fainted for a few seconds.
That’s reality. We work, we eat, and we fight every day for that better future as we imagine it. And every man gives in from time to time when the physique is overwhelmed by the psyche.
The beauty is that we are not alone. No matter where we are, what we do or how we feel, there is always someone to lend a hand to help us.
For free.

Lacking a hidden interest.
I so choose to look around. And every day I discover smiles, tears, fear and determination. All a quick look on the sly.
We are so hidden and yet so vulnerable in front of each other.
That’s the beauty of it, Detka…

 

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We keep chasing dreams and love stories.
We cry our wishes out with nonchalance to everyone that would be ready to listen, hoping that we will be closer to their fulfillment.
We fall in love in an instant and afterwards time flies by us in a swarm of fragile butterflies.
We constantly seek sensations, unique experiences and beautiful people.
Tireless, unbeaten, restless.
A marathon in which work and leisure are combined in an energy-consuming vertigo, uninterrupted and ruthless. In which we always want that perfect “tomorrow” and get carried on by the thoughts of a sweet “yesterday”.
A marathon in which we stumble, but always find the strength to rise from the dust and continue. Nobody knows how far, to what, but hope prevails.
Life by the speed of light. Simple resistance.
How sweet are breaks between shifts…

Sunlight coming through sheer curtains on window

 

It was a sunny afternoon, with drawn curtains and lazy gestures among crumpled sheets.
There was just us and the cigarette smoke adamant in heavy atmosphere of summer. You looked at me with big eyes, of restless, playful child.
Absorbed by small gestures, uncertain and cautious in a world still unknown to you. A world in which two people are connected through dreams, emotions and feelings. Two people who can form a whole, a single purpose, a single kiss and heartbeats in tandem.
Innocence floating around, slowly. Yours. Dreams that refused to calm down were running playfully within the four walls. Mine.
You, the eternal child. Me, always hectic. Us, different but complementary.
Outside there’s nothing, the world is limited to the four white walls that form our fragile and timid universe. A whole world concentrated in 16 m², the eternal urban story.
The evening is creeping in and soon we will draw the curtains over our souls, to keep their purity another night ..

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You know that moment when your state of mind is synchronized with the weather outside…?
My thoughts are wondering without a certain target, hitting the walls of the surrounding buildings like giddies. My whole concentration took a vacation and left me alone to fight with the imagination that finds no rest.
And try to think of all possible sensations that are gathered into one body, one soul.
Amplify it with emotions and panic and then spread all this mixture out over several days and you get an exhausted soul, hungry for air.
And I have a void in my stomach Detka and I get lost among the lines for the thousandth time. Letters, words, phrases, all of them play and play tricks on me.
Now it’s quiet and it scares me. Silence is never innocent, don’t you know that?

 

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And there are days…
When you miss the carefree moments, the coffee on debt and cigarettes bought by piece.
When you miss the sea, the caresses of the breeze on the tanned skin and the lullaby of waves.
When you miss the small talks in the middle of the night with your loved ones and spontaneous departures towards uncertain destinations.
Sometimes you get homesick and you miss the nagging of your mother who once you couldn’t wait to ditch for adventures, the same way as you miss the deserted streets of your native city, where every step brings glimpses of old memories.
In these days, when you miss yourself, the innocent and dreamy one, you find joy in simple and small things.
We are often so concerned about the future, bills, banks and jobs, that we forget to enjoy  ourselves and the simple fact that we are alive.
Today I found my happiness:
In the smile of a woman reading a book so carefully, so carried away by it that I could read the characters’ emotions on her face.
In this naked sun that stubbornly wants to send us on vacation, at least by thought.
In the people around me, who never forget to give you a warm welcome while you drink the morning coffee. Strangers and family in the same time, connected by a job that takes three-quarters of our time. Ironic, isn’t it?
Today I refuse to leave myself again be defeated by trivial concerns.
There was a saying… today I am Zen 🙂

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We let ourselves get carried by the breeze of a whisper
In the middle of summer, you feel the cold
with chills on the back and with fire in the eyes
it’s summer …
And there’s a lot of smile in full midnight.

 

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Glasses gather round like hopes around us. Voided of content, but keeping the flavor of sweet or bitter memories.

I’ve tried dozens of recipes for sweet dreams and steps forward, but we only see childhood and innocence in smiles. I refuse to give up mine.

And I feel again like a little little person when watching the immensity of your eyes.

The sky in them darkens when you’re afraid. And the sea is stormy, the waves that break on your retinas when you long.

I love it when it’s cloudy. Outside, in your eyes, in my heart.

Almost utopian synchronization. But who am I to deny the hopes another chance? Without them we are empty.

Like the glasses that continue to gather around us…

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And what difference does it make if it’s unimportant for you or if you like to play? I like the hunt and unfortunately for me, I ‘m not good with subtleties when I want something….. or someone ….
I lose my head quickly, explosive, stormily….
And it usually works. Many succumb to impulses.
You don’t.
Under the disguise of shyness and sweet, unusual innocence, lays a predator.
You know exactly what you are doing and you never let yourself get carried away. You take time and savor every move. If I leave you, even for a moment, feeling that I belong to you, your interest decreases significantly. You become a fortress. Cold, professional, an executioner …
When near you, all my senses are in alert. You do not make my heartbeats fly, but my body vibrates with every single joint.
It howls, scratches, kicks in thin air, burns for your touch.
You do not know that.
Or maybe I’ve lost my talent for disguise and I breathe this through every pore. The more I call for you, the more you distance yourself.
So I choose to play the game. I ignore you for a while and it momentarily works.
But the second I take a first step forward, you retreat in your shell and build walls around you.
I’m going out of my mind …
I feel like slapping your face, but I would end up abandoning myself completely when I’d feel your perfume or your soft skin.
And the days crawl along with snail steps and acute pain.
With evenings when a glass of red wine is my best friend and my worst enemy in the same time.
I stand waiting for the weekend.
Our moments away from the office that invariably end up the same …
You leaving light marks on my skin, and me abandoning the fight .
Again … and again….
Will we start again on Monday?
For now, I am waiting for the next episode of the series whose protagonists are the two of us.
Subtle and so obviously attracted to each other …
You are patient.
Or indifferent.
What I would give to distinguish them on your face. So I could live my fantasies without bitterness. I would write them, letter by letter.
I put my hopes in an episode with fireworks on the ceiling and traces on my back , because I miss them.
I know you can … and that you enjoy…

Will you join me?
We aim to please, my lonely boy …

 

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I vowed that someday I will cease to lose
among thousands of excuses
and dozens of unspoken whispers.
Butterflies kept running through us
fluttering their wings through my veins
with your wings.
But they withdrew from you,
ephemeral as sea foam.
and made ​​me break my promise.

 

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I like mornings spent in solitude as much as I like those occurring near friends with coffee cups in their hands and lit cigarettes as companions. It’s quiet. Words don’t hang heavy between us anymore and fugitively exchanged glances stand for stories.

I miss you, but it does not hurt anymore…. I started to lift my own walls, brick by brick. Someday it will cease to hurt at all. One day I will no longer feel like a second-hand soul.

The bedroom walls are slowly shaping out my story. They only know me for a few months now, they cannot guess my thoughts yet, but the white sheets have begun to speak. And the words stand in chaos; they do not find their place in a space so large and empty.

Somehow, the bedroom becomes fortress and confidant. Too vast for me sometimes … yet narrow when my personalities intersect and start uproar.

I am a collection of personalities shaped by all the persons that have crossed the threshold of my soul. Each took a piece and shaped it as desired. I am a scrapbook of stories with and about people.

Your story is still grazing on my skin; it’s a painful process….. Will it have a happy ending?

The coffee has finished….

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I was searching for you among the crumpled sheets and all I found was the emptiness in my heart. The irony… Once, not long ago, one morning just like this one, I had the whole world in my arms and I was listening to your heartbeat and your breathing, smoothed by sleep.

You played like a malicious boy. Pride kept you from saying yes at first, but as hard as you let yourself convinced to let me in your arms, as easily you gave up on me and you looked in the opposite direction. And suddenly, your eyes no longer smile when you see me, and my mornings are empty.

I played with fire and in my naivety; I thought you would want … I thought you would want me. Once more, on the same muted sheets that don’t let me think and fill my dreams with unspoken phrases, with whispers that are thrown to the floor and with the warmth that you exude when you sleep.

I stopped furtively looking your direction when I walk the halls of the corporate building. I thought we were locked in a glass block, yet we are actually closed in our own selves. You, you’ve built walls, and I have not run in time to avoid getting stuck in between. You cornered me; you stole my peace and smile.

I want them back….

 

 

 

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