*Note: Originally published in 2018's Live Mag! Magazine. 

On the 12th night, we shuffle

under the rotations of a disco ball,

old Halloween decorations,

balloons bobbing on the ceiling

to remind us that the year is only

six days old. I barely survived

the holidays, but the city can be

unforgiving to introverts, pushing us

out of our brick covered shells because

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We are not siluets, 
we are above them all.
The red stripes in my head
keep running with no control.

And then the long street keeps
all the blue lights i am calling home,
forever banned for me
without coming and return.

I see the color blindness,
seeing sides of you.
Delighted with any moment
that i am stuck into.

I am far away from myself,
far away from you.
Tokyo lights i am ...

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Oh, my guitar!

You are in a case.

It seems so far

You were not embraced.

Your strings are weak,

Your heart is sick.

But a hope remains,

You’ll overcome the pains.

A master will come,

You won’t strum.

You won’t complain

But will sound again.

©Larisa Rzhepishevska

February the 2nd,2011

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You think that you,

form clouds from fog

and paint the forests green.

You think me lost,

inside your song

as unformed harmonics

drown, within my throat

and reeds split

upon my tongue.

But you are wrong

and still I sing,

and though you say,

my life, is but a whisper

in the age of mountains,

I am here.

I am here.

© ...

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