another note,
another stunning shyness;
you made it glow
like the sparkles under the water,
I’m fully interested in every word
that you would speak,
embrace your poetic mind
devour it ferociously,
my blood is beating inside my veins,
yearning to burst out of my body,
to hunt the sweet honey
that gently covers your golden pores,
if I Were Tinkerbell,
I would definitely pray every single night
for being the one and only Holy Siren,
That will insanely chase your soul
to inflate your hunger
with all the temptation’s tricks
for the sake of swallowing all your sins perfectly ;
disinfecting and archiving them
into our fairytale files,
Darling,
I love you to the point
that I used to crave being thirsty for you.

The final written
poetic line of mine
was yours.
I still strive
for more innovation..
that made the apprehension
no longer a pal.
I'm yearning for
your altruism
to assist me again
with my trepidation.
Mi amore,
I called you my home
as it was the most
gentle exorcism prayer
that would beautifully
evict the demonic attack
of my anguish
and set my remaining
awareness perfectly at ease.

Sadness is shivering,
a broken heart is healing,
madness is calming down,
Nothing is the same.
Birds, flowers, and the moon are upstairs,
flowing through my wounds like velvet glares,
Patching the appalling nights,
wandering around and spreading lights.
I’m in love with myself today,
after he came in and sent the fear away.

Just Smile,
Make these lullabies’ wonders shine.
I used to hover over the bleakness.
But exclusively for you, I will angelically fly Thousand miles.
Turn this miserable wood into a real paradise,
Just smile.

Seagulls are over there,
awaiting your call,
to desperately penetrate your layers,
in order to master integrity,
inside your velvet ocean.

I remained silent
for the sake of holding you
emotionally tighter than you could ever
possibly imagine.
I chose you
a hundred times
until I forgot about
my jaded self
and started to hate it even more,
devouring you romantically.
I had no family;
I never learned how to be loved
unconditionally,
so I adored you
unconditionally.
How could you be so selfish
when I was the meaning of family to you?
You betrayed my feelings
and dragged me to hell,
and I unbelievably adapted for you.
I love you with all my remains
and jagged parts.

Despite years of learning
to be independent,
your ghosting can
still act around,
but I'm the happiest
introverted woman
in this corner;
I no longer
belong to you.
I belong to my mess.

Dad,
Do you remember me?
I'm the child you raised,
the one you emotionally abandoned,
the little one who used to be afraid at night,
trembling to the point of tears,
the one who used to be mentally distracted
and terrified of the dark that reflected your gaze
. I couldn't run from you for years
I remember one night I escaped
your cruel silhouette,
and it cost me hours of grief
Dad,
do you remember me?
Do you remember how many times
you used to call my name
and I couldn't answer because I was distracted?
Do you remember how many times
I needed a hug but couldn't get one?
I'm still confused.
Why didn't you accept me?
I'm lost like a suicidal child
in the woods.
Could you find me and rescue me
before it is too late?
It's time for you to remember
how precious I am and save me.

Love, Your Daughter

Grief has a lexicon that
I’ve spent a period of
hard times seeking it
I gained nothing but an enormous
failure to devote myself
to its complete literature,
The perfect Salvia Plath is
patting on my cumulative sores,
admitting that it is my right to
file a grievance against my chores,
work, and daily unfair routine,
as she said that she used to be
so wicked; writing all the day
and forgetting about studying,
she said that I had gotten such a
black-and-white soul for
almost uncountable centuries of
self-wars,
Dear Nicole: She wrote—  
Whether you are a believer or not,
You dare to be the
ninety-nine hundredth savior to
the definition of our nihilism.
Sincerely yours,
Sylvia Plath
I closed my eyes and
bleakly enjoyed her poetic
admission that I had faked it
for a while to
keep my victories beating
against all the brightness and
naturality inside of
my pores,
I’m not a happy person;
I belong to sorrow.

English is a medicine, not a pathogen.
English is safety, not war.
English is kindness, not viciousness.
English is a trust, not a trap.
English is a gift, not a robbery.
English is freedom, not detention.
English is a poem, not a verdict.
English is a reward, not a punishment.
English is a fairytale, not a calamity.
English is forgiveness, not accusation.
English is honesty, not manipulation; keep it close so it will fly mountains for you, and so I am.

I escape the whole world
Like a baby rhyme that has found
Its sanctuary within the verses of poetry

This starry, darkened celestial sky
reminds me of how foolish and
errant I used to be next to you.
Hungry for perfection,
terrified to the point of
letting hallucinations prey on me
and devour me partly,
leaving me to consciously stare at
my jagged self like a leftover piece
of an exciting individual.

I will drag your predation  to mine
to mix it and prepare it as a perfect wine.
I will not leave your line
until I make sure that our gloom is fine.
trust this dust-path and this shrine
of our love that will always mar the sunshine.

Once upon a time, in a toxic embrace
Us, and your shadow, faint and cold
I held onto your lies, against my knowing,
Till awakening came, and I started going.
Begging for warmth, for love's reprise,
Met by your silence, under cold skies.
Today, I close that chapter, bid farewell,
Exchanging your poison for stories to tell.
How could you break the love promise?
And compel it to swell with its calamity
And burst within its insanity
Like a perfect incantation
In times of ignorance.

This pain is intense.
Taking the brightness away,
Creeping up on our melancholy,
Hunting its bleakness and embodying such a ferocious doom inside, we are no longer alive; we are just pretending to be.

after the doomsday
there was an actual poet from the hell,
who always had a knout
to torture their  pale faces
within huge dark fiery cell ,

he ruined and burned their compositions
and made them melting together
again and again  
in a very dark position.

when the god revive them for the sixth time
one of them wailed and said to the poet:
my dear destruction divine
secretly, let the heaven to be mine
and stop giving our thirst
this cursed brine.

the poet responded  and said
yes, i'm the real destruction divine
of course i will not give you a wine
but i will turn off the pine
to keep you close
to your final dark line

once upon a dark time
there was a dart
that came and made us apart
with huge different wills of arts
I write
when he likes to be within the plight
I draw
when he mars glow
I swim
when he likes to drowning
near to the brim
of our fancy dark dart.

she reached this ugly place
and found a dark trace
that captured the terror within her face,

the trace became like a hole
within her senses and heart
like a nasty big ball

she ran towards nothing !
like she was in an actual race
because, this dark lie!
put her in a dangerous case
until the trace shone again!
behind her, like a grace
and suddenly, stood up!
in front of her!
like a heaven base

she stoped, and felt sorry
when the evilness within the grace, was too sick
she licked its inner wounds so quick
until it healed, and its health became thick
but all of the sudden,
  she felt the hit!
on her head by a huge stick.

there
within this scary darkness
she left her breath with sadness
and about the evilness
that hiding within the grace soul
you can taste its gladness

in this Morn,
Under this clime,
She found her dark hails,

She tasted its drops and thee can hanging it
on thine blue nose Thro’ this explode.
now, after the mad mass
the Isle became bold , because it scattered the inner gold,
And whose wailing is this?
Who knows!
But,
Before you go,
Cheer their death up
and embrace your pavilions
And fly carefully
Towards the panic .

It's okay to fail again.
It's okay to drown insanely, to Inhale the whole fire, and to forget about the water creeping up into my collapsed lungs.
Dearest darling hubby,
You set my fear free for a while,
I'm still yearning for some of your tenderness.
I wish I was lucky enough to keep impressing you for a long period of time. I love you desperately.

I can sense my pain’s sobbing,
Sighing and leaving no trace
Of being passionately damaged.
Gifting itself a bunch of hopes and flowering them ferociously with the abscess’s appearance. No gesture could fill the gap left by being desperately injured.

she kept her death
within her breath,
she joined the destruction
with its half seduction.
until she fell in love with
its obstruction.


by:blackedpoison

Stop muting the
breath of your fear
Just Drill your own beer
to find your golden jeer.

And

Let it smash your own tear
Until you find your rights
To live your cheer
Without yourself
And without them my lovely deer.

lead me to the sun,
That will be always
the main symbol of seething
And
the convincing reason
who I'm bleeding.

let its dark lava pray for us,
to have the blessing for our fuzz,
And don't forget to
care about its volatile rage,
thus you will get the golden page
of wisdom
from the right sage.

hide your justification
within the body of your mystifcation
And
don't dare to fight the circle of black fire
that will cause your happines
a great ire.

‎‏I danced through, your eternal desires
like a prohibited shimmered star
that has no ethereal heaven to belong to,
where the lone fear scattered in
its enigmatic expanse
dared to accost the whole cosmic void,
you said that I was like a breathtaking nightmare
that tenderly captured you and
left you breathless.
But I knew It was like a momentary trace,
you would never be mine, my fervent boy.

next to this real terror
there was a real door
that has an error
with a number four

she tried to hang it on it
and ignore its lore
furthermore,
there was a single sore
within its living bore

it hate to lie
but he liked it before
when he was sure that
it is an angelic core.

he will never have more
of number four
even when its rejection towards her
is so poor
but it still can find the inner shore.
within her gore.

You ruined me completely,
Yet I still dare not close my eyes—
Afraid to meet your gaze,
That lures me through
the chaos of my soul
I cannot reach you,
nor forget you,
Yet I wish to name
my garden after you,
With its spring flowers
that might infect you
With gentleness and
tenderness
Still, I dare not
fall asleep or dream,
For your presence
would trap me once again
And though
I’d never confess this to you—
I secretly cherish
this sacred torment, truly I do

You were always
my one and
only child
My most
cherished
desirable
responsibility
I long to
carry you away
from those toxic
exploitative
friends
who use you
break you and
tear you apart
Whenever
they wound you
you come and
pour your anger
upon me
and still
I welcome it
because
I am utterly
yours

I wish to
watch over you
to follow
the trace of
your steps
to guard you
from
every shadow
of trouble

All those women
whom
your handsomeness
mesmerizes—
you might play
your silent games
with them
just as you did
with me—
but they never
fall for it
That breaks you
shatters you further
and yet
here I remain
secretly
I watch you
your eyes fixed
on her photo
on your phone
the first woman
who utterly
ruined you
witnessing
the rest of
your soul
bleed while
I am no nurse
only a heart that
loves you
beyond reason

I chase you
with prayers
with madness
with unwavering
determination to
remain by your side
I am gently
desperately
in love with your
short-tempered mind
with the way you
seek refuge in me—
even though
you never
promised to
stay forever
I feel as
if I am here only
until you find
your way
back to her
only until she can
shatter you more
I am sorry
I cannot stay
neutral
cannot shield myself
cannot distance
myself from
the gravity of you

I loved you with
all the pain in me—
my family’s negligence
my scars from
emotional and
physical abuse—
and I came
to you with
a heart whole
and overflowing,
ready to be your wife
your mother
your sanctuary
your entire world
How can I
silence my mind
when it tortures me
with your image
when I find you in
every fresh scent
in every drop
of rain
in every whisper
of nature
in every wave that
kisses the shore?
I am not hallucinating;
I am wholly
endlessly
in love with you

I ache to save you—
from yourself
from the trouble that
surrounds you
from the sins that
gnaw at
your spirit—
praying that
God will
not take you away
not now
not from me
What more
can I do to
convince the world
that I would endure
your storm
your borderlines
your fury
endlessly
infinitely
without hesitation?

I love you
save me from
the torment of
worrying over you
Save my soul
and return to me
unscathed
No medicine
no sleeping pill
can still
this restless heart—
not even Seroquel
which once lulled me
into forgetfulness

What prayers
what sacred whispers
could possibly
call you
back to me?
Come back—
I am terrified of
losing you
for you are
the very reason
I am still alive

My sweetheart Daniel
with every prayer
I whisper
I feel the world
rising between us
A thousand
invisible walls
attempting to
tear us apart
With each heartfelt
supplication
misfortune
shadows your path
And the world
conspires to
convince me that
you are not
meant for me
Yet I defy
the impossible
For I have loved you
beyond reason
And I will never
abandon my faith
that miracles
can bloom
even in the
darkest nights

No matter how
harsh you are
no matter how
you wound
I know the weight of
your days
The loneliness
of childhood
The sting of
a family that
treated you differently
from your siblings…
I carry it all
quietly in my heart,
And I will never
let go of you
No matter what
storms may come
No matter how
fierce the night
I will love you
forever

—Your Loyal Temporary Wife

The folks in heaven were angry
Because their trees were hungry
That’s why
They killed the last cranky.

After which
they feed the trees amply
With his blood which is totally
Fancy.

But all of a sudden
The greed attacked the branches
And start to spread the sins
In the form of patches.

And finally,
the handsome cruelness built its rituals
within the holy individuals
until the terror bloomed within the folks
and hunt the heaven
to burn its strokes.

I wish it had been my soul that
was stolen, not you—
That I had died before
you slipped away from me
What storm,
what havoc could ever
tear you from within me?
No trick of memory,
no phantom thief of mind
Dares to pry you loose,
though I bleed in the struggle—
Struggling so fierce
I nearly cradle
death’s cold embrace,
Walking barefoot
across a sea of my
own shattered soul,
Until I stand where
neither you nor I can reach—
Where tides of memory
drown and hope is lost—
I am ready to
surrender life itself,
If only to forget you
forevermore

he wrote that:

when she write her poems
she published the fire within my bones

she killed me, with her thrones
when she was fighting the life, with her tones

I lived there, between the groans
when she knew, how to bloom the stones

when she write her poems
I have to try to withheld my moans

I am no longer yours to keep hidden,
They all know now,
Yet you refuse to acknowledge
That I am yours.
After the battles I fought for us,
To be together,
You vanished from the truth's gaze,
And sought refuge in falsehoods.
I apologize for investing so much in you,
For sacrificing everything
For your sake.
I regret clinging to the hope
Of our forever.
I'm sorry.

I belong to the first place
where we used to overdose on dreams,
ones you've since forgotten.
I persist in being yours,
despite the challenges we face today.
Happy birthday to you.
The shattered words I've held onto
remain yours,
whether I can articulate them or not.
Today,
I comprehend the weight
of punitive silence,
and thus,
it transforms into a blessing in my life.
No one would impose it upon me
before it morphs into their fear of
losing me in the first place.

I have grown afraid
of awareness itself—
of awakening into a moment
where I cannot speak with you,
of being alone without the ability
to reach you
whenever fear grips me.

I will go on chasing dopamine,
feeding it,
raising it higher,
just to escape.

And so,
I lose consciousness every day,
because
whenever I return to awareness,
I remember you,
and I break into relentless tears.

There is no savior from
the desire to end it all,
and no savior from the terror
of the end itself.

Is it loyalty,
I wonder,
to craft you
into every corner of my world?
To fill my home
with your shadow,
even though you wander far…
perhaps with someone else?
I opened Shein,
and I spent hours
designing every piece I could,
placing your image on it:
the blanket I wrap myself in alone,
the pillows I hug
when the world crushes me,
the mug I sip my green tea from,
the Locket necklaces,
the candlesticks,
the LED lights,
the rose-gold and
white crystal engraved necklaces…
I crafted everything myself,
and I do not own a single thing yet…
All I have done is place the order,
and now I wait for them to arrive,
while my heart screams your name
in the silence of the empty room….

Not just for loyalty…
But to satisfy my vanity,
to feed my desperate need for you,
for your gaze
to follow me in every corner,
your smile perhaps…
perhaps just for me,
because I am me…
because I crave you
obsessively and
sickly…
I wear all the necklaces
engraved with your image
in my imagination now,
as if my heart could hold you,
as if my soul could feel you near,
even though you are not here yet…

Perhaps this is not loyalty
in the traditional sense,
and perhaps the world
will never know of this love,
of these acts of devotion
unseen by anyone,
of this beautiful torment
that fills me
and kills me at the same time…
I want to see you
in every corner of the house,
in the living room,
the bedroom,
the kitchen…
on the walls,
the tables,
the shelves,
in every thought
hidden in my mind
that no one else can see…
I want you to always smile at me,
to be present even in your absence,
to fill the void that cannot heal…

Perhaps
there is nothing else
I can do but wait…
wait in silence,
in aching patience,
trying to make you a home,
to make your love a warmth
that fills my life,
that makes me feel loyal,
even if the world thinks
I am lost,
useless,
soulless…

It hurts when you realize
that you’ve never been enough,
and all your beautiful features
used to be treated like
they never existed
Let’s go back to
the hollow void
with all those voices of
ours being tortured and
splitting into piece
Memories are no longer great excuses
for dashing ourselves into
the longing trap
We are increasingly
accepting our loneliness

I’ve become too jaded
To fight,
To sacrifice,
To believe,
To persevere,
To confess,
To love,
To dream.
I’m so cynical
To be yours.

Here…
Where I’m unable to feel your presence,
Where the lack of joy and lack of motivation
Are dancing vividly along the darkness…
I would be determined and eager to achieve my goals, next to your gentle, harmless envy.
But today,
My melancholy is cherishing my epic loss,
telling me I’m neither your lover nor your foe,
I’m nothing but a forgotten chapter
A thing that will never remain
Precious to you.

she tasted the dryness of her   blood by mistake.
and she realized that her veins were fake.

she walked towards the red lake.
to commit suicide!
while  she found that the water was flake.

the death was  rusty,
like a rotten big cake
that will never digest
Within the body of snake

That settled in her nightmare
And keeps her terror awake.

How could I escape all our secret places,
dark hours,
physical fights,
and emotional negligence?

How could I pass all our memories and
the people who have some of your features,
as if I’m searching for your smile,
gaze,
and redheaded handsomeness
through all the passersby?

How could I pray to God
not to keep me drowning in our days?

I’m not okay
I’m yearning to write
something perfectly precise
to show how much I endure this pain of
being apart from you

I miss calling you “Dad,”
“Husband,”
and all those words
I wish I could call you again.

What if you already found someone else and
forgot about me?
What if I was nothing to you?

I loved you through all this havoc that
tears me apart and chokes me with
hopeless thoughts.

How dare you,
after all our fights,
break the habit you always had
— speaking to me,
shouting and promising you’d never leave,
that you’d stay by my side forever?

Today, I’m alone
—without you,
without any hope.
Like a lost child who needs a hug,
unconditional love,
and a forever sanctuary.

I miss you like a dying soul
seeking refuge in life,
like an open ocean that
longs for closure.
Can’t you feel me?
You are my twin flame.
You should feel how much we were born
to be together.

I’m eating alone,
wandering alone,
and I’m not okay.

What kind of spell
could scar my memory so deeply
that it shuts you down forever?

Just creating
another forsaken album…
A hundred so-called
passionate videos,
with poetic feelings,
lipstick, white nails
that once lured you
when you were drunk,
tears and dark days,
and hundreds of cigarettes
drenched in sorrow—

the videos and pictures
I used to take for you,
and you would confess,
when you were no longer
in your demonic haze,
that you loved my sleepy eyes,
and wished you could
fall asleep inside them.

I keep them,
let them pile up,
until you stumble back home
with your emotions,
longing to die beside me,
starving for my tenderness,
aching to devour all of me.

No fire
nor ice
could mend me
but your moody existence.
Your gentle voice
when you are drowning
in a good mood,
high,
untouchable.
I knew I held you tighter
than you ever guessed—
until I fractured into fragile glass.
And still,
you made me believe
that nothing could heal me
from your merciless game.

I am starving
to wrap you in my embrace,
to engulf you
in a tenderness
that would shield you—
even if you arrived
only to set it on fire.

What havoc
could ever be as deadly
as you letting go of my hand,
asking me to pretend
that life goes on?
So I became a woman in black—
pale,
thoughtful,
melancholic,
sipping and devouring
what poisons my mind,
what dares to shape your smile
upon strangers’ faces.

What brings you alive
through my isolation?
Whenever I want to
summon you,
I only look at the sofa
and smile,
and your imaginary
smile smiles back at me—
a hallucination so perfect,
I would die to keep it alive.

It’s not about time,
nor endings.
It’s a great starvation,
for a single milligram
of your presence.
Nothing is darker
than confessing
you are my last resort—
come,
and shed my soul away.

I am grieving—
poetically,
deadly.

But who else is here
to witness my suffering?
Who counts my tears,
only to tell you later
that Nicole
is not fleeing your memory,
not hating the dark whispers
of your name,
but craving—
yes, craving—
to weep over you,
because that is all
she has left
to prove
how violently,
how ruinously,
she loved you.

And in the end,
when all illusions fade,
when silence
devours the night,
I return to the videos
and pictures,
to my sleepy eyes
that you once loved,
wishing,
always wishing,
that you could ask me
to sleep inside them again.

I would rather be your greatest sin,
The one you crushed with your own hands — emotionally, mentally —
Than to pray for someone better.
It is better to stop here,
No longing for a life beyond you.

You yearn for money, grand houses, shining cars.
And I — I yearn only for you.
You used me as a bridge, a stepping stone toward your dreams,
And yet, I prayed you would be my last harbor, my refuge.

And still, I ache to be your great sin, your Karma.
I want to watch you stumble through misfortunes,
To see despair darken your days as it once darkened mine.
I want you to return to my Hello Poetry website,
To read, with grief, how fiercely I loved you,
After you lose me forever.
Yes, you will return — that is all you will ever have from me,
For I will no longer breathe in this world.

And despite all I write, this is me — trembling with guilt and fear for you.
I do not wish to be cruel, I do not wish to hurt you.
Yet you have broken me so deeply, I laugh through my tears.
I love you so much that it terrifies me,
And I fear that my love, unguarded, will burn you,
Even as I ache to be the shadow in your joy,
The misfortune that follows you like a whisper.

I long for days so deadly that nature itself rebels against you,
Yet I tremble at the thought of your pain.
I want you to weep over my grave, begging my forgiveness,
To stand straight and implore God a hundred times to soften my heart,
To fear the nights and the days,
Not knowing what else my Karma has reserved.

I do not crave a new happy life, nor a perfect husband.
I yearn only to be the one who makes you wish to turn back time,
To keep me, to pamper me, to dare not touch me,
To dare not gaslight me.
And yet, a piece of me cries for your safety,
For your peace, for your heart untouched by my wrath.

I want you to ache for the hours lost,
So that whenever I wrote you a poem,
You would read it with passion, not remind me that you dislike reading.
And still, I wish your nights be gentle,
Even as I long to be the storm that haunts your dreams.

I learned to code games for you —
For birthdays, anniversaries, every trivial and sacred moment.
I gave all I had to give.

But now… after you lose me,
After I bear the weight of loving you to death,

I see it coming.
You will fall for another who will never love you,
Who trades your feelings for coins,
Who uses you without care.

I feel it approaching:
The times you hung up, calling me stupid,
The times you threw things at me,
The moments I sent voice messages, crying, begging for your ear,
And you replied once — a single, hollow message —
I deleted them all, I did not listen.
The times you reminded me my family didn’t love me,
That you were the only one who did.
The times you left me on my own,
The times you threw me from your car, telling me to take an Uber home.

Do you think you are spared from this?
God is just.

Yet my hope clings:
I will watch it all from my grave —
Seeing you return to the sites I built for you,
Rereading the hundreds of messages I wrote,
Over and over, haunted by my absence.

I know it is coming.
God knows my heart, knows that your tears are my weakness.
Perhaps I will even ask Him to forgive you,
Even after all the pain carved into me.

I smoke endlessly, searching for ways to punish myself,
For I was never enough.
I wish for you never to ask for forgiveness,
For I will no longer exist to answer.

You have shattered me a million times.
And Karma is real.
You will know, in that moment.

No Dodge, no sea-side mansion, no Rolex upon your wrist,
Could ever replace the love I poured.

The woman who loved you madly once sold her phone,
Even her Nintendo Switch — not for their worth,
But to buy one more hour, one more breath, while you threatened to leave.
She thought: If I can buy one more hour, perhaps I can save you,
Perhaps I can hold on to what slips through my fingers.
She gave them up, not for their value, but for a chance to keep you a little longer.
And for herself, she bought only a cheap phone, to survive,
So she would not remain with nothing.

Yet still, you humiliated her, drenched her in water,
As if her sacrifices were ashes.
What cruelty is this?
What blindness, not to see her love as the true currency —
Not gold, not games, not phones.

Your birthday will come, and she will do nothing for you.
You will measure what I gave against what she offers.
Yet the true torment will be your love for her.
You will attempt to erase my Karma —
Every act of kindness, charity in my name, good deeds for my sake —
But my shadow will haunt you.
You will long for that girl to be me in spirit, yet live as her.

I know that day is coming.
I feel it approaching like a storm on the horizon.
Do you have the strength to endure it?
I doubt it.

And still… despite all…
I wish my journey to end here, at this station.
For I have loved you beyond measure.
I desire no greater joy, no replacement, no reward.
I seek only the ending.
I am a woman matured in heart and soul,
Certain of my desires, unwavering in my truth.

I know perfectly well that the video games I made for your birthday,
Which you humored me by pretending to like,
You will play later.
You will wish it had been that other woman who made them.
You will rage at God as I have gone to Him,
Questioning why He did not give me better,
Why He took me,
Why He did not place me with the best man,
Why He did not make you forget me,
Why He let me die grieving over you.

And you will cry to Him every day, telling Him how much you love the woman beside you —
But she will never love you.

Only then will you realize there is no escape from the justice of the Lord.
All you had to do was treat me kindly, wipe my tears, soothe my fear —
It would have cost nothing. Yet you chose to hurt me.

I only need You, my Lord, to gently pat my heart until I meet You…
Just for this time, I long for a handful of ice upon my soul,
A soft frost upon my burning heart,
And nothing else but that… until everything comes to an end.

And yet, in the midst of this torment, I tremble with love for you.
I fear for you with a depth that shatters me.
I do not wish you pain, and yet I long to be the shadow that darkens your steps,
The unlucky star that follows your every dawn.
I love you so fiercely, yet my love is my vengeance.
I want to save you, and I want you to suffer —
All at once, all at the same time.

I missed our fights,
Dark hours and endless nights,
And finally, our poetic moments
If time could return,
I would choose you even harder,
Etching you deeper into the core of my soul

I am no longer longing for life
Nor for happiness;
I am yearning for a loving,
caring you—
The one who craves commitment
And everlasting adoration
I am praying with my body
and soul
My eyes seeking
my only goal
Writing down verses and
chanting them,
With certainty
overdosing on insomnia
And its powerful gem—
You, my twin flame
I enlist every phrase and verb
To craft an invocation
For the sake of keeping you
And silencing all
that surrounds us
I love you
With all my melancholic
insomniac obsession

Inhaling havoc,
devouring poison
disguised as sweetness,
showering my skin
with acid rain—
all of it feels gentler
than accepting
happiness that
does not include you.
I refuse
to let you slip away,
not from my mind,
not from my days.

What destroys me is
what I crave most:
pain,
self-inflicted wounds,
the intoxicating addiction
of suffering.
I hunger for death
in countless shapes,
yet even death itself
would be nothing
compared to the silence
of losing you.

Neither happiness
nor fortune
could ever convince me
to worship anything
but your name.
There is no hope
after you.
That is why
everything around me
bears the echo of you—
the garden,
the days,
my passwords,
my very breath.

I wake each morning
only to invent
new ways to prove
the depth of my love.
I remember the places
we wandered together,
the times I lifted you
from the abyss
even after
you left me broken,
beaten,
still I stood—
shielding you
from yourself.

And yet,
my curse remains:
the thought that you
might find peace
in arms
that are not mine.
It tears me apart,
this jealousy that
burns like
an eternal wound.

A mother always waits
for her child,
no matter how rebellious,
how cruel,
how heartless.
For even the cruelest child
is carved from her heart.

And I—
I have begun to flee
from all places today,
because everywhere
I look,
I find only shadows of you.
I linger in their corners,
like a mother
who has lost her child
forever,
still clinging to
the hope of finding him
in the places
he once wandered
with her.

As for my family,
who will see me
only when
they receive my corpse,
they will see your name
tattooed and
carved above my heart,
and then
they will understand that
if they had been by my side,
you would not have left,
and I would not
have descended
into the hell of days.
You closed the door
from the right,
they from the left,
and there was nothing
left but
a chair and a noose
to feed upon
for the remaining days.
I left you all behind,
and you, Daniel,
I loved to be the mother
you wished for yourself—
the mother
I had always wished
to be for myself,
to love you
unconditionally
even if you
were poison
running through
my veins.
I never punished you
with silent  treatment,
never hurt you,
never left you—
even when you left me,
even when
you replaced the lock
and left me alone
in the street at night,
refusing to let me in.
I did not leave you…
I tried with all of you,
but you all betrayed me.

And I—
I will always
wait for you,
Daniel,
despite the whispers,
despite the karma
that binds us.
Even if you vanish
into another’s night,
know this:
I still love you,
with every shattered bone
of my being,
with every scar I carve
to keep you near.

I wrote these lines
for you,
in the ink
of my own blood,
because I know,
deep in my soul,
the day will come
when you will search
for these words,
and then
you will know,
finally,
how fiercely,
how endlessly,
I loved you.