- Eirene Evripidou


Like desperate moths at dusk, with layers and layers of unrequited wishes, we stand next to a frozen moon, a light flickering, vanishing minute by minute and if only we could hold on.
But it’s so cold tonight.
I’ve preserved every snowflake that fell upon me while I slept. Like a harbour to your dreams, I listened to the wind echoing through night-halls.
I’m numb. But listen. We are not tied to the this black-hole-anchor…
Listen, just listen
There is song between your fingers, a pull from the stars, a guiding to them. & don’t ever forget. Don’t forget me. Me. The wildflower girl with the jade eyes and flooding dreams in my veins – used as anaesthetic.
I always believed in impossibilities: fire burning through water; embers of roses turning to light sources until I could find you. You.
And I’ve waited for so long… For us…
We, drifting like nebulae in the deepest-blue sky I’ve ever seen (don’t go, don’t go – don’t forget).
We are now made of windstorms; star-waves keeping us awake. We are made of intrepid threads and liquid dreams.
And soon, soon we it will be spring again.
      {so stay with me, stay, for this last dream – that, which is thundering in us…}

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2 Responses to “Windstorms”

  1. Michelle says:

    Gives me hope somehow

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