Pocochon @pocochon - Tumblr Blog

Wanting You

I want to understand your melancholy; wander through the abyss that you inhabit.

I want to be the happy blanket that wraps you, and drain the pain that drowns you.

I want to know your secrets, explore your silences. Extinguish your burning loneliness, and unfog your eyes of nothingness.

I want to germinate the empty fields in your mind, grow myself in the fertile spaces of your heart.

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Remembering You

The moon, your breath, the breeze… a caress and our first kiss, and you, in spite of time, still stuck in me.

An afternoon, a morning, and another kiss. Your hair, your mouth, your eyes, and in disguise, your heart printed on mine.

First love, that flower, this desire… Your warmth, that voice, . Your last tear, a cry, and that implausible goodbye.

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Why dying?

Seems a long distance run. Is there ever an end? When life’s last day comes, I will reach for a hand. Can someone give me reasons? Can someone explain? Will I ever be free from my prisons? Will my wings ever spread away? © Pocochon

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Murmur

Sometimes it gets so quiet in this house, that for a brief moment I get to see your fleeting ghost before I find myself staring at a wall.

I wonder if what allows you to come and go is this sorrow I have accumulated, so profound, and at times persuasive and silent, that no amount of noise can control or dissipate.

As one longingly admires an old picture, my mind replays fragments of memories, unearthing my past, in a desperate gasp for hope, as if happiness were the goal of my existence.

I can still hear your laughter, loud and intentional, like the flapping of a bird being freed from its cage. An incessant echo in my head that reminds me the sparkle of my life isn't completely gone.

Your subtle voice is a familiar sound. A constant presence, like a never-ending comfort. Sometimes slowly moving to the left side of my chest, to prevent my heart from indulging its pain.

Ultimately, I guess this is what it feels like to be reminded that someone you love, loved you back.

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Water Drop

A tiny water drop, blinking far out in the morning sun, shining where the horizon divides the two shades of blue.

Thousands of glittering pearls, forming silent white water games, playing with each other’s movements. Developing into large, foaming, spreading waves, crushing on the white sand beach.

Little friendship drops, increasing to big, exciting waves of admiration, attraction and maybe love…

Just in case you see one of these waves, remember a friend.

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If I Could...

If I could sweep away your footprints from my past I wouldn't be able to trace my way back.

If I could wash off your caresses from my skin, the next time I feel you wouldn't be a mortal sin.

If I could drain this flooded mind of all the thoughts of you, my ideas and dreams wouldn't seem so blue.

If I could dig out every seed of doubt you planted in me, I would let hope grow, and finally set me free.

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beautiful poetry. this, your words, your blog, is like finding an oasis in the desert. thank you for writing, I am so glad to have found my way here ❤️

Well thank you 😊 (blushing). Your message just gave me the biggest smile. I’ve been following you with a secret admiration, mostly because I can see myself in your words. You speak my language; When I read you, I get it 🧡

Misery

Our misery is the cliff from where we throw ourself every night.

Falling into the deep waters of our own insecurities… disappearing between the ripples.

Sinking into the silence that lies under of our skin, like the dull cry of an endless farewell… incessant and debilitating.

Indecisive, everchanging passing clouds dispersing into a gray sky… so full of nothing.

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That Part of You

When I am gone, you'll walk around like a ghost in pain, trapped in your own nightmares and destined to never wake up.

You'll be an elegy; the sadness that swamps the night spreading like cold, uninspired.

You'll be found in the moon’s shadow, among the fallen fireflies, waiting for them to give you the light you lost.

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Eluded

Time will repeat your name in the righteous voice of silence, like soundless cotton balls bouncing against the walls of my heart, breaking into the inert dust you emanate...

Wanting to be heard, but falling into stillness.

Some wounds are best left undisturbed.

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Delirium

The memories of us were never a reality, only a constant dream in a prison of illusion.

A pretended existence, where I got to be everything I always wanted, and found all I was looking for.

An elusive life, seen from a two sided mirror, where I met my happiest… when I invented you.

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Mercy

There are people without a heart, many. Many hearts without feelings, too many. Too many empty heads full of mouths, like socks and pockets full of holes. Black holes and agonies of different colors painted over perfect whites, heartless and indifferent.

There's a clock that does not tick, but still runs late. Too late to remember that sarcastic and disbelieving deconstruction has already been installed in your head - like a hoax that preserves your failures. Each stored in individual glass jars, labeled, dated and classified on the shelves of an ever present memory.

A memory without dreams, because they have been buried in a nearby paradise after fighting a controversial battle of thoughts. Unfolding a mastered deception by discovering an ineffective ability to hide discomfort.

I wake up every day facing the same broken clock and realizing that time was, is and may never be enough, but will always be eternal, inopportune and punctual.

Let go of the past so you can change the present. Forgive yourself.

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Happiness

Sadness is not really a mood state, but a small, substantial and arbitrary weakness. Although, we give it so much importance that we tend to carry it everywhere we go like a tiny sky inside one of our pockets.

Happiness is (without a doubt) in another place, where we are almost never present. Where time, broken, seems to go in slow motion, like a weary projection.

Similar to health, happiness is only appreciated in its absence; or like love in its deficiency.

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Unfulfilled

Smiles canned in a jar of tears, like a soul covered by sharp thorns or truth that is told only with lies.

The sound of silence, from a love that drowned in pain, sinking into a pool of expired hugs.

Memories that never traveled past the boundaries of time, like garbage that was swept under a rug.

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Stained with Silence

And there you are… standing by the edge of my bed, like a pale statue radiating cold from the loneliness you emanate.

Overtaken by a nostalgia that has never left you. Wishing for a pillow to rest your head on.

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Change

Today, I decided not to wear my usual fears. I put on some of my best attributes, the handsome, cordial and generous in me.

Even though I knew that sensation wasn't going to last long, because true smiles are always transient and life in today's society is like running through a mine land.

But, most importantly, I also understood that that brief moment of intimacy had already changed me, forever.

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