Roxana Breazu

I wish I could inhabit The darkness of your mind Silent, obedient and unyielding, A passenger, a ghost in a haunted house Bricks covered in mildew And a pond of waterlilies in the yard... I'd

They’ve soaked the world in darkness and they walked away While I am left to reiterate this imperfect stillness of things Griping the outskirts of the sky, seeking you in the shape of

No one could trace me back to it, The slightly atrophied deceased, The uncut strain of mental bliss, It’s set in stone, delusions tease. And then you part with all that’s white, Convey your

I’m the lonely summer flutter, Breezy symphony of wings, And yet tangled up in matter, Your convulsions do not cease. I’m the May of seasons’ purged, Last was laughter, now there’s

After all that’s said and done, Going black then turning numb, Leave ye hope at gates averted, Curse the prayers first erected. After all that’s died and hungered, Never leave your wishes

Welcome to this crippled spring of no blossom When wind blows away only deaf footsteps Where we are whole, but never complete, Sometimes just sad with souls bitter and meek. Another summer

I’ve written a few lines with your blood on my ceiling, There are things I cannot convey, yet I try Like your fingers clasped on shreds of this old skin Which us not mine, nor was it me… I

We are the perfect circle of regrets and truth, of memories and windy trees and thoughts that have no use A wall of silence in between, we write letters of past, we last through all that\'s

Where she’s coming from are dusty patterns, Reconstructed veins or reconstructed matters, The mapping of scars to suitable places, On a downward spiral of lucid disgraces… Of places she’s going

Surely there are things unsaid, That could make up your mind, Yet I’m but a poet filled with dread, While you trodden thorough my time. That open space that lights all up, When perishes the

A word to the credulous In this war of legions, A whirlwind of mistakes Of failing for a failure\'s sake, Make no allegiance But to yourself. Tried to mystify An allegory So I

And then you said please die, It\'s back to black, we closed our eyes Never grew fonder, never locked lips, Try cuddle this thought until it sleeps. Mirros and chords and sharp cutting

You grew inside me My unaware bloom... To shrinken sense of bewilderment Between melted white lies, I create you... Never there, where we think it could be Clentched in some sort of death, A

Inner circle of paled leaves Leaving traces in the air, Fair scent of old past deeds, Dwell with night that\'s soon to flare... And his fragile frame of dust, Sprinkled over spawning

Don\'t move so you won\'t hear the sounds O\'my footsteps walking by, This promise followed me through ages, And dawn has shared my plight. Don\'t look at memories that were, The sight of me

Summer wings that cannot flutter Summer thoughts that can\'t be thought Amber veils, smashing skies... Echos to a standstill brought... Just return the days I\'ve lost When like a child I\'ve

Deep imbedded in my venins, Let the glow of dusk supress Broken archs of heaven\'s mess, And forever thus remain... Arms of silence grows the night, Deep imbedded he lies crushed, Mystic

Changing the lampshades of stars... Uproar of heavy waves... Then sounds withering to nothingness... Broken corners of silence.... Resonating... Smashed ice crystals... Receding... Evergrowing

Remember, you adorned my death-bed with rose petals… They felt soft, like pouring twilights over a sky-map of diminishing dreams, And I lied there, resting…with my shredded moon skin… Cut open,

The sunset has vanished to a twilight reinvented, Reinhaled, as the sorrows we survive No longer breathing And due to drawn in the night\'s eye So I to you...a wish forever sentenced... Thus

You are as quiet as the grave. The head turned, your eyes averted, as though gazing at infinitudes of inwardness. Waiting. Silent as the stone, you might seem astonished by the

If only she could close her eyes to the stinging wind, the incessant cavalcade of happenings. She no longer thinks of what she sees, no more than you think of breathing. A century has

Sai cosa ho perso, amore... Non ti ho perso, ma ho perso l\'infinito e\'l mare... E questi sogni che non vogliono piu ad ascoltare Non e statto che una canzone d\'estate dei angelli persi, Dei

Under the dying sun, you are everything... Clothed in the most brilliant, perfect human-shaped layer of skin... Swirls of autumn leaves, like burning amber... You bear the scent of the deserted