The words of poetry are wasted
unheard trailing away into the void.
Like a preacher without an audience
the meaning of the words dies
with the last echo of sound.
Nobody will remember
the meaning of the words
and the story behind them.
The quill scribed the poet’s blood
into paper white as snow.
But who will know when it’s all over -
who will recall their existence -
that these words went out to you.
Readers here and everywhere
you don’t need to remember my story -
Please just don’t make the same mistakes
and learn your lesson from the past.
My wish to be understood
is not about to be fulfilled.
Too few know of the existence of the words I wrote
less will understand their meaning.
So the lines I write for you
will wither away
along with the people to remember.
And if noone will remenber
then the words are wasted after all.

This one is dedicated to the true love that got lost over time.

They say time can heal any wound
but let me tell you what i found:
What they say couldn’t be more wrong
my feelings for you are still strong.

Sometimes I catch myself in thought of you.

Though my mind tells me not to -
I think of all the good times that we had
and the one time it went bad.

I straighten up and cut the woe
and where only winks ago
joy was filling up my brains
a hollow space remains.

Emptiness is mocking me
showing me what could not be.
I ask myself why we broke apart
even when it ripped my heart.
This question accompanies me every day
but an answer remains far away.

If only I had known in time
that what we had was sublime.
But I was to blind to see
what you truly meant to me.

The last glimpse I caught of you
is a memory that makes me blue.
Did you know i watched you go
through the crackling shiny snow?
For me that moment time stood still
and let me tell you: I watched until
your bouncing head was gone for long
already knowing it was so wrong.

If I could alter history
I know what I would change for me.
Mend the cracks in our foundation
which led to our isolation.
I wish I could undo the fuss
that then separated us.

All that’s left of you in me
makes it difficult to see
that it had to happen just this way
to redeem the debts I have to pay.
Though the memory of you
still feels like it’s brand new.

I still see you every day
when somebody crosses my way
but you’re not there for my salvation
it’s just my mind’s imagination.

So I close my eyes for peace
to let my soul find some release.
Instead you’ve waited there for me -
with closed eyes it’s you I see.
Your face is burned into my head
it’s impossible to forget.

[And so I cry myself to sleep
knowing you are what I need.]