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across my face.

I saw spring coming
in the meadow
where the wildflowers
whisper to the wind.

found freedom on a snowcapped mountain top,

smiled to the child offering violets
cradled in her tiny hands

and when she smiles to me

her joy ripples like sunlight
across the sea of love.

the curtain is lifted.

the soul becomes visible

(always in the wild places
in my heart.)
It’s so dark.
Telling yourself lies, little white lies.
To create little space.
To get through the day.

The dark is ok.
But not when you can’t sleep.
Not when it’s violently painful to be awake.

To live a life that never feels fine.
You just try.
But need to escape from this world.

Stuck in the moment.
And it’s not pleasant, draining discomfort.
Takes forever.
05-03-25
Help me through, magic blue.
Help me through.
The day.
The day.
Oceans’ blue.
Oceans’ grey.
Help me.
Save me.
Let me be swimming.
In you.
To you.
A new beginning.
Start new.
Don’t let me hear a single noise.
Just your waves, a mermaids’ voice.
But no more banging sound.
Let me whirl and swirl, let me go.
Round and round.
To places I don’t know.
But seen only in dreams and heard only in whispers and voices of the sea.
Let me be that creature, let me be sparkly. ✨
21-06-25
They asked him,
"How does one become a poet?"

He answered,
with the weight of stars in his voice:

"If you can read
the lines etched on your mother’s hands,
and the furrows folded between her eyes
then you are already a poet.

Go now
and savor the journey into madness."
 13h M-E
Queen b
Mon cœur est lourd comme un âme pleine d'amour,
Envie de me lâcher ya juste les cordes qui me caresse la gorge
Je suis sans voix mais les voix veulent m'attendre , mais il n'y en a pas moyen . Je cherche où m'abriter, mais l'abri me fuit . Pourquoi fuite un innocente fille qui cherche juste la paix. J'aime la solitude comme j'aime pas la solitude mais comment faire .
Même quand je suis entouré je me sens toujours seule, seule et vide comme un feuille que le vent emporte sans raison.
can't stop moving forward
a shark in the water, blood
pumping. How can you say
the fight is over while the
wound still bleeds?
 19h M-E
storm siren
If you love a poet
Let me give you a word of warning:
We trust slowly,
But love swiftly
And fiercely
And with all that we are.

If you love a poet,
She will forget chores
And things on the grocery list
But she will be able to recite
Her favorite quote
And stanza from
T.S. Eliot's the Hollowmen
As though she wrote them herself.

If you love a poet,
She will stumble over words when confessing feelings
And reciting poorly timed jokes (making them all the more unfunny),
But be able to write ten pages at least a day
On how you light up the null void she thought her heart was.

If you love a poet,
She will get choked up
When thinking of all the pain you've endured
And wipe at streaming eyes,
Because her empathy runs too deep and
Too wide.

If you love a poet,
Nothing will be organized
But that receipt you were looking for
Will have some extra ink on the back,
Something-something about birds
Another something about finally being heard.

If you love a poet,
She won't be able to be impressed with her own cooking,
And she'll misplace everything all the time
And it will send her into a panic.
She won't remember where her cellphone went,
And whether or not it was on vibrate or just low,
But she'll remember exact dates and times that music
Came on that made her think of you,
And whether or not you were with her
Or if you were holding her hand.

If you love a poet,
She won't remember names or faces,
Or movie titles of flicks she likes,
But she'll be able to tell you the feel of your lips
Pressed against her skin
In detail that makes her shiver,
And how the feeling of you hand on her knee
Makes her heart skip enough beats
To make her head spin.

If you love a poet
She'll write your rise to the sky a thousand times,
And never once fathom writing your fall.

If you love a poet
She'll misquote things that make her laugh,
Sending her into a spiral of embarrassed giggles.
She'll be clear enough and pay enough attention
To correct those that are misinformed on a position or stance.
But she'll be zoned out to new inspiration
And writing your praises
Too much
To remember that food is necessary
And that water is helpful.

If you love a poet
She won't be in your world
When writing,
But all her work
Will involve her care for you.

If you love a poet,
She'll go on and on about your colors,
Your bravery,
Your smile
Your laugh
And expect nothing back.

If you love a poet,
You will be there for the darkest nights,
Where she had never let light in before.
For the nightmares
Where her voice is meaningless,
As it had been for the majority of her life.

If you love a poet,
You will see the shadows
Of her fear
Overwhelm her
And feel her nails in your skin
Too hard,
And her fingers squeezing yours
Too tight
Too hot
For someone always so cold.
You will see the fear in her eyes
When things are too loud
Too angry.

If you choose to love a poet,
You will see her lash out at her own devices,
And feel the scars her ire
And poor coping skills
Left her with.

If you choose to love a poet,
You will see
Parts of a troubled mind
No one has ever seen.
You will hear her confession
That imagery doesn't fit
The painting she wishes to make for you
With words
To describe her love for you and all that you are.

If you choose to love a poet,
Know that she is a  fragile thing,
With shaking hands
And quivering knees.
Know that she is brave and strong
Only in the conditions that are familiar.
And she has a "I'll do it myself," mentality,
For that's all she's ever known.
And when she's left injured with fractures all around,
Her first thought is "That didn't go as planned."

If you choose to love a poet,
You will have to deal with metaphors
And similes
And her staring at you in awe.
If you choose to love a poet,
She will scoff at those who have hurt you,
And know that it is because she hates that she cannot protect you.

If a poet loves you,
It was not a choice,
Rather a result of circumstances
That were beautiful and meant to be.

If a poet loves you,
She intends to inform you,
And she intends on staying.

If a poet loves you,
It will be wholly and entirely and until
The end of days.
Hey look more things.
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