Touching your skin with cold fingers,
the sweetest sorrow of all,
pouring itself into every fibre of our being,
and wasting away the fine border that separates the you from the me,
the worst emotions from the best ones,
the hardest memories from the brightest ones,
the bitter moments from the joyful ones.

There is so much life here,
so much future in every cell and move,
so much love, it could not be contained.

My fingers’ trace is followed by my tears,
for love’s constant yearning which cannot ever be satisfied,
for lovers lost in hardship,
for death in all it’s disguises.

Your skin grows colder and colder under my hand now,
and outside the dawn is breaking…

We’ve walked through the fire and the ice it created.
How many hearts have we broken in the process,
how many liars called by their names?
How many treasons shifted into promises,
and how many voices silenced?

‘Failure is not an option’

How much have we torn ourselves apart,
blown ourselves into oblivion
and rose back from the rubble,
only to start all over again?

When there are no solutions, no options,
no sunlight to reach down into the desolated plains
of misery and desperation,
when there was nobody offering even the smallest
money of their trust for us to buy our laughs,
when there was nothing left…

… there always was more…
you… me… something to say, something to cry about,
something to share, something to care and the only
thing we lost were our enemies.

And while we did wander the stretches of our imagination,
alone, and the beaches of heartache loved turned once more over,
changing their names and appearances through constant waves,
someone amongst us smiled and not you nor me could see it or even feel it.

They say that the night is darkest in the minutes just before the dawn.

If I could have dreamt of gold and clarity,
that one moment where the fever stops
and your peace sets in.

If I could dream your ways
and wish to live through them,
through You,
trough us and nothing else.

If I could choose to have nothing but you
in every move, every tear and every wish

If I could aim for your glory and your light,
could lay it all down,

what I would be,
what I could be,
what I’ll never be
and
what I’ll never see

If I could wish for just one dream,
one aim and goal,
that dream would be of you.

To bring the fire back into your eyes,
to make the walls around your heart tremble and then break,
to see the life in your eyes once more,
to feel your trembling touch on broken skin once again,
to solicit that special blush, that unbearable shudder,
to light the sky with one single look,
one single well placed kiss,

I will love you without a word or look,
without touch or nearness,
with a passion that will remain,
painful, eternal and unreal.

I will love you while you will conquer the world,
your fear and darkness.
While you become the one you were meant to be,
go where you’re meant to go and
love who you’re meant to love,
and sparkle the world with laughter.

To die in solace,
to suffer in twilight,
to end it all in one single thought,
to choose what cannot be found,
to hold on to your dying look,
to love at last.
With every heart, every fibre and every inch of my mind.
With every seed of heavenly lyrics and harmony,
with every eye and tear…

I will love you.

For all the people unconsciously wishing me the best,
for all the thoughts sent into this direction,
hoping for me to finally get up and make that choice.
For all the well mannered and discrete inquiries,
the undecided and unwanted partaking,
for every whim and expression only barely disguising that one last question,
for all it matters and all it doesn’t, this is what anyone would have to say…

Get out and turn around, because you’re not helping anyone.
Breathe out and let the projection rush out of you, because you’re not bringing any clarity.
Keep going and don’t come back.

Let me tear myself up into the tiniest pieces,
without rhyme or verse,
my future and my past.

Let me cry my soul down into an endless pit,
into the depths of what you would call your hell,
and I simply call… my own heaven.

- To an absolute Extreme, an Idol of Inspiration, D.M.

There’s something that needed exploring: the theme of an unrequited love that has been loved and been precious for such a long time that it is like an old friend in your mind and your way to look at the world. And what if that old friend suddenly changed in the face of hope, even the smallest one. That’s what needed to be discussed and that’s how I fulfilled the premise.

There’s a hand lingering on my brow in a forgotten idea and the sun on the walls.

When I look at you, that look holds all the world.
When you look at me, I believe that I could be that other woman.
The stronger one, the lighter one. The fighting one. The one that I am not.
The one I wished to be … for you.

Loving you is like a sweet spring rain on cold ground,
more refreshing and resourcing than anything physical can ever be.
Loving you is like a prophetical air that never comes to pass,
where newness and expectation never cease.
Loving you is the closest thing I get to the divine.

Whenever there’s that hand… your hand… resting on my face, I almost believe that I could take on the whole world.

Nothing is easier than loving you.