.

To the boy, I was too afraid to get close
And to the girl who didn't realise.
And the loud one who helps shyness be left behind.

To the one who held me tight, from whom I wanted so much more but the timing was catastrophic.
 I wish to see you again. One day.

To the one who saw the invisible, told it  she was beautiful  and set her free

To him I could had loved. Fly. Flow.

To a tall girl who suddenly was a friend.

To her who held a wreck of a human that didn't want to cry.

To the lover of a deathwish-zombie. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened.

Forgive me. Forget, if must.
You will always have a place in my heart.

Yellow paint

Yellow paint!?
Not here in the adult world, no.
Maybe in the children's ward.
You can buy it only for your child.
Who'd want yellow anyway, when there's grey?
Here we have granite grey and concrete grey.
Grey as a thunderstorm or grey as fog.
Grey as a wolf and a grizzly.
Warm grey and cold grey.
Dustmite or perhaps the spiders web grey is more your shade.
Grey of depression and grey as everyday life.
Soft grey 
Harsh grey
Grey deep as  dreamless sleep
Gentle like a feather.
No need for such extremities.

Yellow.

Shadowmaker

The pain tore my scalp as the shadow man slashed it.
Infuriated wasps stung my arms.
Electric currency ran through my torso, arching my back painfully.
My sides run with hot blood where he'd cut me.
I didn't know why he tortured me,
I told him, screamed, begged him to stop.


Have I died and gone to Hell?
He laughed.

He is gone for now, but he will come back. Some day soon I'll give in, tell him everything. I don't know what he wants so I'll confess to it all. Every lie, every ill deed. Maybe he'll go away then.
Now I can fall into a sleep that isn't quite sleeping. It doesn't quite do what sleep is supposed to.
In the morning I wake up, look into a mirror: a pale, ghostlike shadow of youth looks back and tries to smile. There are no scars, no bruises, no sting marks, no fresh wounds and yet I still feel his clutches on me.

Two Part 2: Lords and Children

     The little boy running around the marketplace wasn't older than four years old. His hair was blond and curly, his skin the colour of rich cream toffee and his eyes were ablaze with the joy of running. His laughter echoed from the walls and made everyone he passed, smile. An out-of-breath guard run after him, not quite catching the wild creature. He was  just glancing over his shoulder at the guard when strong arms lifted him up, high, high in the air.
"Hello, Ray," a deep, warm, fatherly voice said but the boys terror, for those weren't his father's eyes, took over. His laughter died and exhaustion took over.
Ray had been born unexpectedly early, the man knew, on the road home from Night. He was named after the first gleam of sunlight that had felt sudden to his parents after the thick fog of the forest faded.
"You're not Daddy", he whispered in a state of shock, eyes widening in realising how high off ground he really was.
"No, I'm not your Father. But we're on our way to visit him." The pale lord recognised the young prince from the letters his father had written him, with long descriptions of the boy, his movements, studies and spirit. The lords beautifully crafted chains caught the curious boys attention and he started fiddling with the thin silvery plates shaped like orchids.
"My.... Lord...I'm... I'm sorry!" huffed and puffed the guard who'd been trying to catch the boy. He tried to stand and salute but he could hardly stand anymore. It had been a long and extremely hot afternoon.
"At ease, soldier." Nightern lord hurried to say and then to his own guard: "Do get him some water!"
Quickly a flagon was given to the red-faced guard and he drank with long, grateful gulps.
"Will you be fine?" asked the young guard who had given him the beverage. Before he could answer, though, his funny looking colleague took his shoulder and muttered loudly: "I know your struggle. We have a princess."
There was a chuckle all around them, one that the lord and his lady determinedly did not hear. The little prince was seated on the lord's horse, behind a rather shy-looking girl, Sunshine, and the princes guard joined the train of men, women and horses all the way up to the grand library/ the city of Days' lord's palace.

"You're early!" bellowed a man, surprisingly young for a lord, before the herald could announce the lord and lady of Night had arrived. The lord of Day was a large man, strong as a bull and even in his strange paleness, was a shade of burnt sugar. His hair was as golden and as wildly curly as his sons and his eyes were light brown with a hint of yellow, like shards of amber.
"Well, I caught your little rascal" replied the other, with an overly serious look on his face. They stared at each other for a moment, before breaking into laughter.
"Oh, brother. I've missed you.You know I would have come visit you if it weren't the worry for my wife's health. The midwife says she carries twins," the Lord of Day said.
A deep shadow of concern was clearly visible on his face now. Not too many years ago his Mother had died giving birth to twins. His Father had soon faded away leaving the city in the hands of a grieving boy. Since then, he had prayed good fortune and health for every woman, treated the business of having children with seriousness rare for such a young man and respected the lady he was now married to in a new fashion.
 For a long time he thought he would not be capable of love, so he decided to make an alliance out of a marriage. Yet soon he found, to his surprise, his broken heart to be healing when the girl, chosen by his counsellors, slowly and patiently showed him the beauty of the world and taught him to laugh again, to love again.
"Lord of Night!" a soft, gentle and noticeably weary woman's voice called from the doorway to the entrance hall. "Perhaps you can knock some sense to my husband, he hardly sleeps when this would be the time for that. There's plenty of  wakened nights ahead." The Lady of Day waddled to greet the guests.
She was beautiful. She seemed to have been dipped into honey, so soft were her colours. But it was her eyes that truly mesmerised. They were the purest shade of blue you could find."The sky beyond the mountaintops is out-blued by them" had the golden lord once written to his brother-in-office in a spur of poetic enchantment.
Saphira, a name she had chosen, was more than fitting.

Days flew by, as old friendships were renewed around the city.
The shy princess soon forgot her weariness and run around the garden, playing hide-and-seek, or catch, or a strange combination of those they invented themselves, with Ray and his closest friend, his guard's son, Hunter. They were all more or less the same age, but she was taller, as Nighteners often were, and run faster than the boys.

During a long and restless hours, the Lady Saphira gave birth to twin girls. One had flaming red, thick hair, so bright was the colour it seemed unreal at first. She was named Ruby.
Her sister, Amber, had the most unusually coloured eyes, light brown, just like her father, with shards of yellow embedded with the brown, like tiny sharp blades.
All three were fine, and the Lord could hardly stop crying from relief, holding Ruby, while Amber was sleeping in Saphira's arms.
The prince peeked in.
"Come, meet your sisters, Ray" Saphira whispered and he sneaked in, quiet and careful.
"They are very small," Ray pointed out stroking Ambers soft cheek gently, the way Mother showed him. "How soon can we play?"
"It will take a while before they can run," Saphira laughed.

Two Part 1: Introduction

        Two cities stood on opposite mountainsides. A dale shrouded in thick, dark forest separated the mountains. Like eternal, faithful lovers they gazed upon each other across the woods.
      One city bathed in light. Even the nights seemed somehow more luminous than elsewhere.
It's citizens were blond, bold and strong. They had wrinkles around their bright eyes from an early age from squinting against the sun, so it looked like they were always smiling.
The city had no name of its own, it was just another half of a pair. It was only Day.
Days twin, Night, was covered in fog that arose from the forest by day. The light there wasn't much from none. At nighttime, the Moon shone to the city and allowed its people to work in light that was as pale as their skin. They had large, dark eyes, long limbs and nifty fingers. To an outsider, they all looked the same and many thought there was something stretched about them. As if they had been run through a mangle. Not surprisingly, their biggest import were candles, for they were known all around the world for their fine handicrafts. If a great king needed jewelry, he called upon jewellers from Night and if his queen needed the finest gown, a nightern dressmaker was summoned.
Exports from Day included all kinds of fruits alongside with wine and liqueur made of those fruits. The most famous of them was Sunshine in a Bottle, an apricot liquer that could bring out the hero in any, and every, coward, reviwe the warmth in the worst case of frostbite and lighten even the grimmest kind of spirit. Some claimed that it could even wake up the dead, but that was probably just an old-wives-tale. If you asked about it visiting Day, though, you'd get a nogde, a wink and a smile but no real answer, one way or another.
   

I live among you well disguised

            The town had been slowly suffocating for years. That was even before they came. These days people saw anyone walking alone as prey and anyone -everyone- a hunter. No one talked to each other. No one sauntered, strolled or took little walks, nevermind how you want to say it. Maybe summer will be different.
   I watched a group of women hurry below my window. They didn't seem to even know each other, just looked for security in numbers. And well, when I say my window... ...it's not, strictly speaking, true. This was once a theater, but since no one went there anymore it was closed down. It wasn't much but it was close enough to call home.
    It wasn't quite 8 p.m. yet, but it was dark. Heavy clouds had hung over the landscape making everything look too small and too grey. Bless the dark for hiding them. Snow was falling in big splats and the road looked slippery.

    Hidden behind a thick curtain, I watched a young woman in black, walk to the bus stop across the road. 'Hello', I thought to myself. 'You're different.'
    She was pale and the cold had turned her dry lips bright red. I couldn't see her hair under the big hooded scarf but all that was enough to make me think of Snow White.
   She was swaying slowly to the sound of music no one else heard, swinging her hips and tapping her feet as if she really wanted to be dancing, not standing in the snowfall. Maybe she was just chasing away the cold, but I'd rather think she was dancing in a world of her own. One where there were people and music and soft lights.
      She was beautiful. But something in her made me know she'd never see herself that way.
      She smiled and it made me see the deeply hidden, profound sadness in her eyes.
      Her loneliness echoed mine.

     I wanted to go to her, say something. But everything I could think of sounded cheesy. And suddenly, she waved at the bus, jumped in and disappeared from my life forever. Could it be she would had been like me? What would she had thought if I told her how she looked to me?

Ghost

Invisible to the world.
Untouchable.
Unheard.
Disregarded.
Passing them by.
Just watching.

There they live.
All good and well
 without me.
They don't know
They don't care

They don't have to
None of this touches them.
This cold
suffocating loneliness.

As if nothing ever was.
Looking back
To the beginning.
What a waste.