Mirage.

expectations.

You don't have any expectations
From people who understand you
Because you have experienced
Those who don't understand what is that you really want from them
It's not a bad word,
Wanting.
To be understood, to be silent, to be wanted.
People who love you,
Will do so silently,
Because they know how much you love silence,
How you make their silence yours too,
Their art, their poetry,
Yours too.
Silence is not
White noise
It's not a burned CD
You gifted that was never
Played in repeat
Repetition isn't a
Bad habit either.
We chase tails our whole lives,
Like comets chasing each other,
And shivering at the touch
Of their icy remains
Ice is not a bad feeling either,
In numb winter finger tips,
In tea
Which you spilled into a
White paper tissue
And turned it into poetry
That sails as paper boats
Because no has the patience to
Read what you write.
Writing isn't a bad profession either,
It's not a profession
At all
It doesn't adhere to
Lead heavy arms of clocks
That tick from 5 to 9
9 isn't a bad number,
Cats have 9 lives
September is the ninth month,
When I had my first kiss
Only to be broken 9 weeks later,
9 months in my mother's womb,
Which I don't remember.
Remembering is not a bad occupant
It occupies most of my day time
But turns into spear shaped
Nightmares when I can't sleep
And I can't dream of orange flower petals that I tread annually in a city
I have now a room of my own.
Own, is not a bad feeling either,
It makes me feel like,
I belong to those I alienate,
To those who alienate me.
Alienation is not a
Bad sight
My sore eyes and heavy
sleep curls into a foetal position
And I wish I could stay here,
For a while.
No number, not even 9
Is enough.
Enough, I wonder,
How must that feel?
I do not know,
I never detected
That word in someone
Else's vocabulary.
Is it bad, though?