Poem #151

I followed my heart and it led me to you.
When things took turn for the worse my
brain took control over me. It left my heart to rot
in your hands and I ran away. I don’t know why I
still regret it.

Poem #124

I was never good in art class but yet
for you I tried to behave as a descendant of Picasso.
I took a canvas and made you a painting
to explain my emotions better, to make you
see how much it hurts when you do some things,
to let you know what I need more of so that I
could feel safe and loved around you.

I thought you were such a good guy because you
tried to understand and tried to be better but then
I realized I was the girl that stooped so low as to
be forced to draw you a map to my heart because
you couldn’t find it yourself. I was handing you everything
I was, everything I am and everything I will be and
you were still wandering without appreciating this gift.

Poem #43

My life became a tennis match.
One player is called “No” and he is
sponsored by “You can’t do this again”
and the other player is called “Yes”
sponsored by “You still love him”.
The ball is my stupid heart and the ball
never stops flying from one side
to the other. The crowd is extatic,
cheering on as my heart goes
from one mistake to the next, falls
in and out of his arms every few months

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It’s hard

It’s hard

I could paint a perfect picture
of this ceiling I’ve been staring at
for hours. The lines, the imperfections,
the spider building a web in the corner.
Even the spider is building something and I’m
just stuck here with my empty head and
hollow heart. 

It’s hard to have a vision for the future
when you don’t know where your present is headed.
It’s hard to fade in your early years, watching
your dreams getting further away with every step you
take thinking you’re making them reality. 

From one crisis to the next, from one cigarette
to a whole pack, from one glass to a bottle,
from one day to another. Baby steps turning into
abrupt halts. Youth turning into ashes. 

I want to take my little black dress for a night out.
I want to move to the sound of music.
I want to see those far away cities, go from one
plane to the next destination. I want to touch the
ocean and see the earth from above. I want to
feel the sand underneath my feet while sipping a
cocktail on a sunny beach but I’m here getting familiar
with the ceiling.  

The earthquake beating in my chest
is an endless hallway and behind each door
is a story to be told with an unhappy ending.
Yes, an earthquake in my chest, because my heart
is miles away from me. I sold it for a ruined
fantasy but at least I gave it away. Thought it
would be easier. 

It’s hard to put my feet on the ground each day
knowing they will take me on a quest of
imposed society rules while my soul is craving
something real, something alive, something different. 

That thing, that happiness everyone talk about – where
is it hiding. How many miles, how many doors, how many
breakdowns and sleepless night away is it. It’s hard to be
young and so old. Full of energy and so tired. So alive and so dead.  

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