the art of being invisible

there's a certain world

around me.

everywhere

I turn.

people are there

but I'm not.

among them
I'm irrelevant

and I'm sorry.

different worlds of desire

exist around me

flying as winds

and they're tied by

soft foundations of their

relationships and their

heartbreaks;

and I

understand them

but they don't understand

me

and I'm sorry.

there's

an eternal dreamer

living among you.

and you don't even know how
the darkness

is only one silk curtain

under which

he's happy to hide

until it gets eaten up

by moths of the

morning sun.

and he's a star in the sky

flickering

as if every moment

he's about to fall

on one's palm

to be strengthened by its

mystique.

but he doesn't fall;

he disappears in the light of a day

because then

he doesn't belong

among you

and for that
he is not sorry.

and you should maybe try
to understand

why

because he can't.

 © Tom Del Braco