Raindrops

Raindrops,
Pitter patter.
Heavy rain,
Falls down,
To touch the ground,
But they do not dare,
To fall on me,
At least not this time,
'Cause now they know,
Who I am.

The kid

I stand outside the cafe,
To light my second stick of cigarette,
As all the smoking tables are booked,
And as I take my first puff,
And let it out,
A kid and her mother,
And her aunt,
Walk past me,
And the mother says,
"Don't smoke in front of her at least!"
To which I politely replied,
As if you don't,
When she's around.


And she walked away.
With her sister.
And her child.
Who will grow up to smoke
On one of the smoking tables.
Just like her mother.

Cigarettes and Coffee

What a combination

Cigarettes and coffee

Now they say two different things cannot last forever

But these two show us how

Cigarettes and coffee

What divinity 

Isteni

Smoked a packet or two

Back in the days

Back in the

Days

The good days

A cold winter morning

With fog and smoke

Of course

And coffee

Burnt ash on the ground

Ground with cracks

Trying to hide

But little do they know

That

They look so pretty

Like the scars on a woman's face

Like the scars on 

A woman's

Breasts. 

Cigarettes and Coffee

So divine

Water droplets fall on my feet

Due to the wind

And the smoke stays within her lungs

And when it comes out of her mouth

People

Stare

Like they always do

The gray matches the winter mood so much

It's a moan

The kind of moan you hear 

While you make love

The kind of moan

Which makes moan

Moan

Coffee and Cigarettes

Are 

Isteni

And her lungs will explode one day

And that day will be when
She lets herself speak

Like she never did before

Cry tears of joy

Oh so divine

Oh so

Perfect

Cigarettes and Coffee

Another scar 

But not on her face

In her heart

Another scar

Another,

Cut.

Oh Isteni

Isteni is me.

I don't think so.

Because for me, 

Isteni is,

Cigarettes and Coffee.

Number 3

But you'll be gone away.

Somewhere far. 

Making something great of your life.

And I will just lay down on the ground.

Begging for somebody's company.

Without saying anything.

Hoping someone would listen.

Like you did. 

Like nobody ever did, 

Ever.

As cliche as alone

As cliche as alone sounds now.
I am alone.
As cliche as I look now,
I am something I'd never known.

As cliche as being in love sounds now,
I am not in love, anymore.
As cliche as love sounds now,
I cannot let myself feel they way I used to, before.

A man called Nicola

I met a guy,

Called Nicola.

He is Italian. 

He made me happy,

By being Italian. 

And kissing my hand.

He does not know this,

Though. 

I met a guy,

I felt something between us so strong.

I just,

Felt that he would be mine.

But he is not,

And he knows this,

Though.

I met a guy,

Called Nicola,

He pulled me through one of my toughest times.

I had ever had in life.

He made me oh so happy again,

He made me smile.

He is special.

To me.

But he does not know this,

Though. 

I met a guy 

Called Nicola

For the first time.

And maybe it was the last time I ever met him.

He got me so happy,

I almost let a tear of joy.

I almost thought he would be mine.

I almost thought he would get back to me.

I almost thought,

He would love me too.

I almost thought,

I found a new life.

I almost,

Fell in love

Almost.

And he knows this, 

Though.