colors of goodbye.

white; for dumb bosses

black; for dad

yellow; for a demanding partner

brown; for a pen pal

green: for your eyes

red; for a silky lingerie

pink; for wanting her

orange; for a hungry soul

purple: for a hug

blue; you, yourself, and the blues.

rainbow; for death.

 

 

 

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rivals..

Black and White; a clear portrait.

Good and Evil; a win-win situation.

Mum and Dad; an obsolete divorce.

Birth and Death; deepest griefs.

Love and Hatred; a jazzy life.

Heart and Mind; ridiculously inherited.

Body and Soul; a rotten truth.

You and I; a never-ending fantasy.

Me and Myself; an eternal lore that never thrilled.

Atrocious status..

Be in the know Kate that Alfonso is fed up of the way you approach him. He is suffering and just too shy to express the way he feels when you hostilely talk to him. It has been ages since you touched him tenderly; he craves for it. As a long-time partner, you are supposed to be super gentle to your soulmate. Now, the status is still tolerable. However, this caused lots of issues with his job causing a solemn confusion with his management. Deep down he wanted to stand and reject your sarcastic way of taking.

The accountant’s wife is not happy as well. Once she gets a divorce, there will be others to follow. Then, you will have to handle an atrocious status alone. Someone will be hit hart, most probably with a mallet in the face; still forget most of late marriage nights and destroyed pleasures. Eventually sent to poverty and misery again; maintaining same status it all started ages ago.

..misty..

now that it is all over;

sun shines; not as sweet..

over Jupiter, another cracked relationship;

come on over dear,

be brave; it is past mid night..

not so misty; is it your soul Blondie?

lift her up, curves held;

tight, till another sunshine,

once freed; surrender to the wind..

wander bare footed, wrapped with white fur;

basement is yours..all of it,

never ever think of breaking free..

lower levels are dedicated..

nice, muddy, overwhelmed with poverty..

cry it out loud, working hard; just like a…

morning jazz will never pick up troubled dreams;

no more standing at door step;

enjoy chimney’s dark stinky smoke..

penetrating tiny blocked lungs..

soul strives for a memory..

of a simple thing;

saxophones play favorite classics;

demons inhale misty thoughts…

 

 

simple things; fear.

A true illustration of a fake individual who never existed even though his wife gave birth to a pretty girl. She was not blond but still charming at her fifties with three kids that was raised in complete poverty and a need for the simplest things of an average person.

Dad, can I walk you through the garden as I used to do before that bloody accident? Sure dear…since mum left, life has turned into a bitter sweet nightmare. However, she spent a happy few last years with Alfonso; a childhood dream love.

Let’s get breakfast first. It will not be helpful to start a new day so empty. Miss mum’s omelet with mushroom and pepper. Now, sharing the bad and good news is such a pleasant adventure. Leaving the morning filled with sadness wishing for a new Dawn. New fantasy that will be never disclosed before dooms day.

A strong desire for leaving the good old Alzheimer with the sunset in a windy summer night. Drive the wheelchair darling…mum would never have done so. Regrets looks for not helping with all very tiny simply stuff. Should father continue hating himself wondering how did it all go wrong? A simple thing for now; face the ever-lingered fears forcefully. Baby: tolerate, enjoy such a simple overwhelmed fear.


Featured image source: https://picsbroker.com/fear-wallpapers

Tolerance.!

“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” 
Marilyn Monroe

narrow frames..!

Just keep on moving darlin;

Could it be the chemistry?

Freaked out in dark basements…

Stuck in a gloomy sunrise…

with you gain!

forget our tears;

neglect our fears;

never mind wasted years..

just place our destiny to a; narrow frame of fame…

torn apart..but still;

adore your skin smell;

gosh, deep in side still.

now what!

is it farewell?

better off; a bitter sweet sanctuary,

one with the forensic steady ferry;

ownership, define-less;

failed to climb down the stair,

now what!

is it stop and stare

wrapping off an affair;

in a down town bar,

shake hands and drink it;

double or single! be it.

now what; bugger off.