I like the rain
So when it falls i can cry with it.
Is this a good way to describe it?
What i feel when it rains?
I don’t want to name the feeling
But , imagine it
the rain pouring
And you out there not knowing why you’re pouring…
Pour
Mother tongue
Sa do te doja
Sa do te doja te ulesha e te shkruaja per ore te tera per ndjenjat e mija. Jo qe dikush te mi lexonte me vone, por qe une te mundesha te lexoja per ndjenjat e mija. T’i njihja me mire, te ndihesha me e hapur me veten.
Do te doja qe zemra te mos me rrihte papushim , e gjaku qe me vlon neper vena te mos e ndjente kete presion. Do te doja qe veten ta kontrolloja, e kur flas per kontroll dua te them te ndaloj se shtypuri cdo ndjesi qe me kalon nen lekure. Ato ndjesi qe me jep truri sa here mendoj dicka e dua ta shkruaj e t’ja shpreh vetes qe nuk eshte gabim te ndjesh me zemer te hapur. Epo, boll me iu shmange vetes.
-Nga çka ke frike kaq shume?
Shume do te doja te dija se nga c’druhet ky trup i gjere e i shkurter qe dita dites struket drejt errsires duke menduar te pakten 2 arsye se pse mbijetoji edhe sot.
-ja per kete e kam fjalen edhe une.
Keto fjalite e gjata qe po ti lexosh dy here te ben te vesh duart mbi koke se as vete ti nuk arrin te gjesh nje kuptim
E ja tek jam une qe leshoj veten ne oret e vona te nates , se ndihem keshtu si ndihem e pertypem keshtu si pertypem.
Nese ka nje rruge te lehte per te ndenjur e qete ne kete ore aspak zhurmuese , te lutem ma trego.
Kete bisede e ben truri me zemren cdo nate. Epo kete nate i pushova te dyja.
Ne qofte se me pushim dua te them qe mora guximin e po ulem te shkruaj , atehere kete emer vendosi ama shume do te doja te dija se si njeriu merr kurajo te bej gjera qe ne te vertete nuk ka fuqi ti mendoje e jo me ti ndjeje.
Epo , shkruaj dreqi e morri se do te ndihesh me e lire , do te ndihesh me mire. Ja pra , as nje sinonim te bukur per fjalen ‘ mire’ nuk ma ze truri.
Pres ta perjetoj.
Ndoshta jam dhe bipolare qe e vendos veten ne kete pozite ku lodhja e mendjes nuk iken as me gjume.
Po c’po flas keshtu. Po flas e po shkruaj po dhe keto mendime qe ne vend te thuren afer e afer me vjen te bertas ne menyre qe cdo rresht te shkruhet vete. Po si mund te shkruhet vete , kur vete une kam frike te shkruaj?
Po si mund te pres te me zere gjumi , kur une vete nuk dua te fle?
Ndihem lakuriq perballe fletes , se keto mendime truri im nuk i koncepton dot as neper endrra jo me te marre kurajon e te shprehet diku.
Prisja qe gjithe ku deshperim te ikte , sic kalonin stinet me dite te bukura e me dite te strukura . Por buzeqeshja vesh me vesh me ka cuar ne trishtim zemer mbi tru.
Tani, kurajon per te lexuar se c’kam shkruar kush do ma japi?
?
Notebook (raw)
I hid my notebook a while ago.
Locked in, somewhere safe
In a place i couldn’t reach it easily.
I thought , for a split second
That if i could ‘disconnect’ myself for a while
This gut feeling would go.
Because for a while i thought ,
Maybe this is the right thing to do.
Giving myself some kind of a cryptic message,
Maybe t’were me
that was holding these feelings
Hostage.
I was hidden for a long time
Woke up today and couldn’t do this anymore
I could escape
But i didn’t want to.
I think that might be a good start
Reality hit me
I read somewhere.
A writer writes what he knows. What i seem to know is only sadness. I have been refusing to accept. The unacceptable. The struggle is real. Believe me. Avoiding the unavoidable. The unacceptable situation i perpetually put myself in.
To avoid the unavoidable
I wrote that in bold
Because that is a bold thing to do
To write when you’re hurting
Pen Pen Pen
The ink of my favourite pen
Is running out
And with it
My soul is running out
You dont get it
People will say
Buy another one
Or even
Buy the exact same pen.
But it will be different now
Like with this pen
I gave my voice to my thoughts
Its not easy,
Starting a new page,
with a new pen..
Rainy day
I couldn’t
Put my glasses on today.
So there is that.
Eyelashes loaded with heavy clouds
Ready to pour.
There was 80% of the chances that it would rain today.
Not a weather forecast
Assumingly,
(Takes a deep breath one more time)
That i could wipe away the clouds
So i could reach the sun.
It was not about him being too far away
Or that i couldn’t reach him,
It was more than that.
Trusting the process,
Leading the way towards this light
That i so much ‘insist’ on having
Will it be the end of this?
What is exactly that I want to achieve?
Is it the clouds to be gone?
Or is it the sun what i am really after ?
Lost a bit
Do you ever
Read all your thoughts the next day you wrote them?
Is it just me , or the emotion is not the same
Don’t get me wrong
It’s not like you cant feel the moment you just had
It is not that you forget the feeling
It grows into you
It becomes you
In a way that if you had the chance to feel the same thing twice
You wouldn’t let it go away
You would want to feel it
Because your body needs to feel it
But can you though?
Can you feel the feeling that you felt yesterday
Just like that?
Without changing a thing
Ps . I was so angry when i wrote this
Scream
Because that will make u feel better
But it will not change things
They will still be the same
The ego-ers, the crushing soul-ers
You will feel
Stupid
Naive
All at once
But never helpless
The same you ,got you into this
The same you ,will get you out of this
Touché
May this sound a little cliché
If i say
No one dared to get to know the real me.
The empty me
The numb me
The one that mood changes every five minutes.
The smiley me
The sad me
No one dared to get to know the happy me
Long time no see
Attacks
Stimulation of the heart
When my voice broke down when you last called me
When my heart fractured the cage i put myself
In order to protect her
Not from you
From the damage she got
From missing you
How
How
Can i record the feeling that i know i m gonna miss
How can i film the touch
How can i remember this or that
Is it possible for me to keep these memories in my little pocket
Just so if i were feeling low i could go back in time
Feel the feeling that once made me feel good
I will miss this
I will miss the wind
The sound of rain
I will miss myself too
LC Poetry 