Dried Poppy Flowers

Reunion

And here they are, years later
Sharing only the awkward silence
Neither friends, nor lovers
Hiding, behind the darkness.

I wish my soul was a dancer
Things would be so easy then
All fears, thoughts and the emotions
I would simply dance away.

I wish my soul was a dancer
So it could always stand up strong,
Seem fragile but inside a warrior
Firm, flexible, and never wrong.

I could dance away my worries
Feel the glory of free soul,
I would express my self in moves
Like nobody has seen before.

I would be able to jump so high,
That my fingers would reach the sky.
I would waltz along with starts,
Touch the sun with painless scars.

If my poor soul was a dancer
Tango would be the tune of my heart.
I would jive away my sadness,
For my dancer soul, nothing would be hard.

I wish my soul was a dancer
So it could lead a life its own.
My own path would've been so much better
If only my soul was a dancer.

My self-portrait of You

I drew a portrait of myself

And there were you...

I was looking at the reflection of my face

And seeing you, staring back at me.

I saw your eyes throughout my own

And felt the touch of your soft hand

Upon my painted cheek.

An oily paint of tear run down

And you were there to catch it,

My brush was redening my lips

But it was you who put a smile on it.

I painted my dark hair

Falling down up to my shoulders

And I could feel your hand

Softly playing through them,

My brush put on the black waves

But it was you

That moved them away from my face

I couldn't help but notice

Your eyes staring back at me

Through my own gaze

Warming and protecting me.

I drew a self-portrait

And had to capture You in it,

Because that's how I see myself

With marks left by you all over it.

Small DOT

All it takes is a small black dot

On a big white canvas
And we call it wasted, lost
And throw away the canvas.

All it takes is a small black dot
And the jar of white paint is gone
We label it as useless
Hide it somewhere in the dark

Isn't it too much power to give
To nothing but a small black dot?
A dot that doesn't let us to forgive
A piece that steels the peace of mind

She saw the tiny lip-shaped stain
The small red stain on your shirt
And now she has to wash it all
The shirt, the love and you for all.

© LiLit Ghazaryan

Accused of not struggling enough

She simply left

And never came back

"How could he?"

And here he was

A man that lost his kid and wife

A man accused of not struggling enough

His face, again, hardly changed

But his hair grew white

In less then a night

His heartbeat was slower then a clock

His voice was almost gone

Once a young man, he looked so old

With only one question in his mind

"How could you?"

He lived the rest of his days

Like a puppet forced to breathe

He never talked

And hardly walked

And died unknown

Suddenly, but expected

One late night he died.

The man accused of not struggling enough

He died alone and lost

In the darkness of the night

And was buried by some strangers

With no priest or a cry

That's how he lived, that's how he died

The man accused of not struggling enough.

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Frida

The day I died
It rained so hard,
But I was smiling
I was free at last.

My body sick
And my soul weak
Love was all I did
Love is all I need.

I'm famous now
I see and know
As I am Frida Khalo.

If I had to live again
With all the power I could gain
My art would surely stay the same
If there is one thing I would change
It's him, it's us, it's our love
I loved him more than my own life.

But every time when he came home
I smelled another strong perfume
And I would yell and cry and fight
But things would be the same each night

If I could live my life again
I wouldn't change a thing,
Not my faith, not my works, but only him
Diego...

Dedicated to Frida Khalo, a true inspiration

One Simple Night

This is a story of one night, a story about a man and a woman... Just like so many other stories....

She was sitting in the living room, looking for something to watch on her laptop. All she needed was something to keep her mind busy, because waiting was a torture for her. It was 11 in the evening and he was still not home, usually he used to be home around 8. It's been three hours already, three hours of random thoughts, three hours of just walking around the house, from one room to another with the hopes of finding something to do, something useful and destructing. She had washed the dishes, ironed her dress for the next day's meetings, but there was nothing else to do. She had tried to finish the book that she had started couple days ago, but after two or three pages realized that her eyes are just running through the lines but her mind was somewhere else and she could not even remember what she was reading. So she had decided to watch something. Comedies, they are always good for such situations, they can make you stop thinking too much but they also don't require so much attention in case your thoughts do fly somewhere else after all . She finally found an old comedy that she had already seen once and started watching it.

It was dark outside, he still was not home. That was so rare, he always used to come home before sunset, especially now that it was summer and the days were so much longer. Suddenly she realized that it had been a long while since she had to spend an evening all alone, by herself. Every evening he was there with her and now she felt so weird and uncomfortable, in a way it was even scary. But she didn't know what was more scary, the fact that he was not there or the fact that she was so used to him. They have been living together for almost two years now and she was more than just used to him. Her entire life was now about him, around him, everything was somehow connected with him. And now she was by herself only for one night and she was already loosing the control, she was so used to his presence that she was actually bored without his company.

The time was going so slow. She was looking at her watch every five minutes, every time getting surprised that it was only five minutes past the last time she stared at the watch. Suddenly she had this strong feeling of missing him. She kept counting each minute, knowing that she can't call him, which made waiting even harder.

And then she heard the car noise, his car. She had even learned to recognize his car sound without mixing it with any other car among the hundreds that used to pass their house. For a second her body went numb, she heard the car parking in front of the house, then the engine stopped and she heard the noise of the door closing. His footsteps were the next and at that point her own heartbeat was louder than the sound of his keys opening the front door. He stepped in and went towards the stares that were leading to the living room where she was sitting. She was standing on the very last step, waiting for him. He smiled and hugged her. That was it... There in his arms she forget about the three hours of torture and all she could feel was his warmth. He was out working all day and was so tired that could hardly walk, but he would never do anything else but hug her and give her a kiss first thing when he got home every single day.

That day he had called earlier and told her that he would be late, there was some extra work he had to take care of. It took him three hours to finish all the paper work, three hours that she spent doing nothing but thinking about him. Three simple hours that the day took from them and they both had felt like they hadn't seen each other for whole three days. The rest was as usual, they had dinner, watched a movie and went to bed to wake up early next morning. But there was so much more in their simple evenings, every look and smile they ever shared had so much warmth behind it, so much love...

Love is simple and whatever is simple has a little love in it, but every simple thing turns into something so much deeper when there is love...

© LiLit Ghazaryan