Badly drawn to the bad boy

We’ve all been there(I mean us girls) at least once, where we’ve been swept off our feet by the bad boy.
He whom is untrustworthy, unpredictable and therefore exciting, does nothing but break hearts for a living. In my opinion, him being introverted and mysterious stems from his inner struggles and unhappiness.
Most probably, he’s broke and smells bad cos he smokes. None of this do we notice as we are blinded.
One thing is for sure, he doesn’t give a damn!


Milo Ventimiglia as the bad boy in Fergie's video.

Say it again.

Say it again,
How you across the ocean, were reminded of me
Every time you listened to the CD I gave you.
How the waves hit your boat and you were
Drawn into a sweet melancholy.

Say it again, but I’m going to ask you to say it again.

E.Y

I walk...

I walk on the ashes of the burnt bridges that have taken
My innocence not fast but slowly,
Growing the eagerness of touching the unreachable.

I walk on the pieces of the broken glass
From the quarrels with my inner self,
Realising that I owe not anyone but myself an apology.

E.Y

My Mr. Big...

All the poor ones were surrounding him like a bunch of flies, aware that he could get rid of them with a shake of his hand. They were all drawn to him like a light and fell, one by one while struggling for his attention.

I observed from a distance; clenched my teeth, put on my sunglasses, turned my back and left before I was discovered.

Woody Woodpecker and his upper Manhattan friends

Woody Woodpecker and his upper Manhattan friends, are drinking and sniffing while having intellectual conversations about world hunger and the latest exhibition at the Guggenheim.

Their conversations are accompanied by Sidney Bechet in the background and the clinging sound of wine glasses.

I want to go to NY.

E.Y.

HE

He had a tired face.
Not in the sense that he suffered from insomnia , but more like the one who had been through a lot…maybe too much.

E.Y

Let's live a cliché

Photo by Patrick Moberg

Let's live a cliché;
Our eyes meet coincidentally in the middle of a rush hour in a subway station. By accident you look once, then twice. The third time, you pretend to be looking at the board while you try to close your umbrella. But I know how it works; you can't hide it from me. Why is your hair wet? I don't get it.
The crowd around us turns silent and moves in slow motion. No matter how many times I get bumped into; my looks remain calm, waiting for the next exchange.2 minutes to the next subway. It's not mine. Hopefully, not yours either.

E.Y