all those poems that I wrote for you
they didn't get their wings yet
but still
they remain
hopeful
and so they are
building castles
out of
misery
and they wander
through the corridors
of mystified
desires
and they seek
another night
behind
the curtain
tree
to survive
just
to survive
this
longing
and
they do
© Tom Del Braco
(photo by Anna Morini)
since last time
I haven't felt so bad.
it used to be worse but every time I would pretend
that I'm all right.
and I would be all right
although it would all reflect badly on me
that I would even conclude
how I am really
dissatisfied with anything.
I was conscious, if I have to mention,
when forced by the circumstances I recalled
all the traumas during the sunny days
and rainy nights,
while others were hopping barefoot
around girls
inviting them to a drink or a dance
and at the same time revealing their hidden capital,
or at night again
casually worked on their pray.
I was not made for such
environmental trends.
everyone in life
has its ups and downs, in short,
their own pace
and me - I feel like I slipped into the abyss
at the bottom of which I expect to find a
springboard at least, like a formality
for hope.
but even if it is there and if I do manage to bounce back
I probably won't end up any further than the wall
that is all around me.
what comforts me is the feeling that
on that wall I will probably remain only as a stain
that will be remembered;
but not by the wisdom that would get all the attention
but the one that is not supposed to be washed,
erased.
© Tom Del Braco
(photo by Martin Stranka)
here it is
as the last setting
left at the bottom of the underworld
stimulating
in the native type
of undone core
simple
as the analysis
from the sidelines
nervously trapped
in fingers
tap
tap
tap
I hear
the written word
as a miserable drop hitting
the forehead
conversely
proportional
it strains
and alas!
the longing flounders harder
in veins!
© Tom Del Braco
you are life
but you aren't aware of it yet.
you are my life.
I used to lie about it
when you asked me how much you mean to me
and I'd be disgustingly rude because I would change the topic of conversation
onto some non-essential things.
and you weren't persistent. you were wrong, you know ...
persistence would drove the truth out of me:
you are my life.
for a man to truly believe in love
he must firstly cure the bitterness within himself.
I'm not saying that I am ready
but certainly I understand more about it.
maybe we should meet again for the first time.
maybe we should get drunk again
to fool your suitors that we are together
so they would stop bothering you.
and we were good at it. so good
that even we started to believe.
how did we let that happen? well I guess you know:
despite the fact that we like to push people
away
you and I still don't know how to be alone.
© Tom Del Braco
the sky is
gloomy
today
with my
thoughts
a cheerful
heart
is covered
with
the heavy
cloud
and the
eyes
do not
shine
now
in a broad
daylight
their darkness
is
loud
rain
drizzles
as a
punishment
for the soul
in a
smouldering
feeling of
love
really
why love
isn't
transient
like a
raindrop
falling
from above?
© Tom Del Braco
