Tag Archives: life


“Everything is just an illusion,” he said, smiling at me. The wind on a 16-story building was cold and strong that it almost blew me off my feet. He leaned against the railing and looked at the people below. I followed.
None of them could notice us and take even a short glance.
“They don’t care about the people around them, including us. Because we are not part of their world. They go on with their lives thinking that each day is different and new but the truth is, they just go around in circles. They are bound to do certain things, and discard those that they are not made for.”
I stared at him and he returned my gaze.
“You know what? I want to be a bird. I believe I can do it. If I won’t try to fly then I wouldn’t know, right?”
He stood on the railing, tiptoed. He closed his eyes and spread his arms.
He let the wind blew him away, and fell head first.
Now, people took notice of him. He has become a part of their illusion, something that is hard to forget. Everyone below paused. Mouths were open but there was no sound. Eyes stare blank, like machines that hang from a glitch.
I wish he really became a bird in his illusion.
But in mine, he was just a rotten egg who thought he became a chick.
An now his yolk is spilling on the streets.


featured photo: Artwork by Asano Inio

Boy friend

I want someone who will starstruck me
From the start that our eyes will meet.
And we will go back to our usual lives
But faces painted on each other’s mind.

I want someone who will listen to me;
Recognize my voice as I call his name;
Know the emotions in my every tone.
And stay up all night singing a lullaby.

I want someone who will ask if I’m okay;
Who will comfort instead of judge me;
Who will place the smile back in my face;
Correct my flaws if I am leading astray.

I want someone who will cry for me
Instead of me crying because I’m leaving,
Grab my hand and never let go of me:
Tell me everything just to make me stay.

I want someone who will give me rest.
When I think I am too tired of loving,
Understand that it’s not breaking up
But just going back to the way we were.



Featured photo source: magic4walls.com

Is it my fault

Is it my fault

Is it my fault for getting catcalled?
For walking on the streets, alone and silently?
For the way I dress, for being myself, expressive?
For I was born with a face that’s pretty?

Is it my fault for getting groped?
For cramming myself with people like sardines?
For when I’m around everyone I was just being friendly?
For not defending myself because I’m weak?

Is it my fault for getting raped?
For coming home late after my night classes?
For walking on dark streets because that’s the only way?
For being so defenseless against men?

…Is it a fault to become a woman?



featured image source: moscow.escapeteams.ru