Prezly Writes

In my next book Obsession, Lily gets trapped inside the world of a narcissist.
Yet through art, she’ll find the only way out.

I. THE LIGHT IN YOUR EYES

The first time I saw you,
you had that confident look,
full of force,
with a glimmer of tenderness.

I wanted to hold on to it,
to let your strength envelop me,
to be rocked by that tenderness.
And you, you saw it.
You played with it.

I hoped,
because every time your gaze
fell on me,
my whole being awoke.

It was addictive.
And I loved you in your darkness,
in your anger,
in your cracks.

II. THE OCEAN

I thought I had seen it all before you.
I had drowned in oceans,
been struck by lightning,
wandered in dark stations,
been attacked from every side.

I had watched my flesh be eaten,
my shadows dance,
my dreams collapse.

But I didn’t expect you.

Not because you were stronger than all of this,
you’d like to believe that,
but because you woke in me
a part that had been silent,
a desire I never wanted to name.

III. PEELING MY HEART

You didn’t attack me,
you didn’t stab me.
You didn’t even try.

But, willingly or not,
you took my heart
and peeled it,
so slowly
that I ended up bleeding.

IV. THE DANCE

You almost made me lose
my perfect balance
by making me dance
one step too far.

You stopped suddenly,
at the edge of the cliff,
leaving me suspended
in silent vertigo.

I didn’t fall.
But I will never dance
the same way again.

V. THE SILENCE

And in the silence,
our energy communicated
more than our words or gestures.

You brushed me without touching me,
and I rocked you
without ever carrying you.

VI. PLASTIC & GLASS

The feeling was like plastic:
it could stretch and grow,
but only gently,
pull too hard,
and it would tear.

The feeling was like glass:
you could breathe into it
while still hot,
shaping it with care,
but once cold,
even a whisper
could break it.

VII. THE LOOK

I didn’t even want anything from you.
It’s not like you brought something new.
Because I’ve seen it all before you.

But you surprised me
with just a look.

It’s harder to forget
than I thought it would be.

Because sometimes it’s not about living the life,
but about feeling all the possibilities
that die
even before they have a chance to live.

VIII. THE WOLF MOON

You’re like the moon
reflecting on the snow.
Light or darkness,
you inspire both.

We look at you and wonder:
are you a wolf?

Like it, your eyes
go from bright to night
and pierce us
all at once.

IX. THE GRAY

You’re not all black,
and I’m not all white.

Together, we make this grey
that doesn’t shine,
doesn’t fade,
but stains the skin
and refuses to leave.

X.THE SWANS

We were like swans in illusion,
moving as if the water belonged to us.

But you led the dance.
And you were black,
I was white.

It couldn’t work.
Beauty without harmony
is only a fracture
painted on the surface of the lake.

XI. THE BLACK MIRROR

You made me go through several phases.

The first was the sweetest,
the most striking.

The second, the rawest,
the most disappointing,
but the most alive.

The last,
is realization.

You handed me a mirror,
tinted black.
Looking at you,
I finally saw myself.

XII. GOODBYE NOW

I don’t want to play the games
I don’t want to be you pawn
You hold all the cards and expect me to fold
But that’s not how it works
I am not joining you there
Even when you get close
You keep the control
And I am kept in the dark
You think I can love you that way
But it only makes me hate you
You get to see me, hear me, feel me whenever you want
But you stay in the shadow
And I always feel you absence
I could never really love you
I am only aching
Until I don’t feel anything anymore
Goodbye now

XIII. FLIGHT & ABYSS

Does not mean I don’t care.
Unlike you, my heart melts
when exposed too close to the sun.

You’re not the sun.
But the journey makes me fly
a bit too high.

And you,
you only go a bit too low.
You feel the cold of the abyss,
while I feel the lava that flows in it,
before being propelled
500 km higher,
before I fall again,
burning my wings.

It’s easy for you,
you did not even move
while I traveled,
wailing all the way.

XIV. INTEGRITY

I don’t want you there.
I never really did.

I still care
about my integrity.

And you,
you are a threat
to it.

XV. NOT FOR SALE

You think I exaggerate
when I just paint.

But could you ever
appreciate art
when it’s not for sale?

XVI. ART TO COMMUNICATE

Because art was never to show
but to communicate.

Not to be owned,
not to be sold,
not to be praised.

Only to reach
from one silence
to another.

XVII. AND IF I ONLY TALK IN VERSE

And if I only talk in verse,
it’s cause there is no other way
to put words on nuance,
and that is all you ever gave me.

And if I only talk in verse,
it’s cause silence
has no other melody
than fragile poetry.

And if I only talk in verse,
it’s cause that’s the only way
for me to absorb your cruelty.
Prose would choke on it,
silence would drown in it.
But verse,
verse cuts it into fragments,
makes it fragile,
bearable,
almost beautiful.

I could also sing it,
play it,
dance with it,
but would you understand,
when even my metaphors
are too far
from you?

XVIII. MY SAFE LANGUAGE

I admit I’m weak.
There is something I could never do
with all those feelings:

to give them to you
without any rhymes.

Yes, I chose poetry
because it’s the only language
I speak
while being sure
you won’t reach me there.

XIX. 500KM ABOVE

I don’t regret though.
You ask how I do it,
how I am more than what I look.

Then you resent my sensitivity,
but that is the key.

I don’t need to calculate.
I don’t need to prove myself.
I don’t need to play your game.

See, you breathe into me
for a minute too long
and I just traveled
a thousand landscapes.

You call me weak for it.
I call it
being 500 km
just above your road.

Love you through the night and the dark 🖤