I think my favorite time of day
is dusk
It feels as if something important is happening
Yes, the death of a day seems
reasonable
In that moment
I turn off all the lights in the house
sit on the couch
put on some good music
pour myself a glass of wine
and consecrate that moment
A toast to me
I am alive

Riding the subway
I realize there are so many people
so many people, really
I wonder if all of them
are okay

I want to do other things
the chores call me
but each time it’s harder
poetry has tangled me in such a way that
ah…
I just want to keep drinking from it
forever

Small pleasures
being present
staying away from social media
exercise
I’d always read this list of items
to improve well-being
on some websites
and never paid much attention
Then I chose to adopt them
like my cat
that I found on the street
They all came to stay

My cat starts to meow
He sniffs my nose
then makes a nest on my chest
while I’m lying down
He rests his head right over my heart
He’s seen me cry all day
He knows I want to die
But there he is
reminding me
that my heart
is still beating

I will take all this pain
anxiety
nervousness
and turn it into poetry
Sometimes it will come out beautiful
Sometimes it will come out raw
Both
are deeply spiritual

One day I want to climb
to the highest place I can find
stand face to face with danger
and meet freedom in its eyes
see the vastness of the blue sky
and the stars as they shine
take a leap into life
and embrace death as mine

I’ve written about this before—
the missing piece.

Yes, the piece is already here.
I don’t need to search for anything.

Who said emptiness must be filled?
Who said it’s even empty?
Couldn’t it be a wound
that only needs to heal?

I am already whole.
I just need to be aware of it—
and that
is the hardest part.

you said:
“you’ve been kinda annoying this week”
ok…
I guess I deserve that
so I start to cry
you leave me alone
alone
alone
alone
in a dark room
in our double bed
alone
alone
alone
I want to breathe
but I can’t
where is the air that was here?
so I just cry
cry
cry
cry
it’s a never-ending cycle
the pills calm me down
you apologize
you say you didn’t mean it
but I still feel
alone
alone
alone

Because you never ask
or say anything
Can’t you see I’m suffering?
I’m a nobody to you
Well, at least in the end
I’m feeling something—
anger

I climbed out of a well
and swore
I’d never go back.

But this one is different—
it carries
the bitter taste
of suffering.

I thought only in prose
I could be whoever I wanted to be
How mistaken I was—here too!
I can be a thousand and one things
And you? Can you be who you are without art?
I doubt it
But if you show up before me painted in gold
I’ll believe
Yes, I’ll believe
The world is mad

You’re not letting me go.
You’re making everything harder,
slowing down my plans.

Do you still miss me?

You look at me, angry
in the middle of our friends’ wedding party
and ask
why I’m always sad,
always making drama
in every moment that should be
happy
joyful
I look at you, confused
lost inside my feelings
I only know I feel bad
really bad
but you can’t see it
I’m not even sure you care
So I just say
I don’t know why

I was scrolling through Pinterest
when I saw a drawing
of a girl with flowers sprouting from her head
watering herself
I felt the scars on my thigh—
the ones only I can see—begin to itch
So I decided
I would tattoo that drawing over
my war marks
so I’d never do something like that
to myself
again

That moment when anything can happen
everything can change
and you don’t care
Yes—you do care
about your well-being
about
being truly happy

I was crying in bed
Only the moonlight entered the room
My cat kept looking at me
climbed onto the bed
and began to lick
my tears

I hate you
Don’t be alarmed
They’re strong words
But what I feel inside me
is unbearable
The truth is, I’m afraid
Afraid to say goodbye
and end up in the arms of another
who might hurt me
Not you—you’re good
But still
you’re hurting me
My heart races
because it knows what it wants
Freedom
Yet I keep it
caged

One day I went to a very rich man’s house for dinner
He told me:
“You write cheap poetry”
I replied:
“Yes—because if it were expensive,
even your heart couldn’t afford it”

Healing doesn’t come overnight
And it doesn’t come in waves
Healing never tells you when it will arrive
It’s a process
It settles in slowly
It’s a state of mind

I don’t aspire to high ranks
My humble little life
already so worn
is far too good to trade
for any gold that comes from hell
or any weapon that comes from heaven
None of it is worth it
if my heart holds nothing
I hope my journey
lasts many more miles of road
My verses—though not quite country songs—
bring calm
to my breath

I quit my job
because I wanted to invest in my dreams
but depression made everything blurry
distorted
confusing
What were my dreams after all
I asked myself on the fourth day
lying in bed

is there anything wrong
with being just
a spectator of life?
watching the living go
the dead return
not letting it shake me
never caught off guard
just letting it flow
as if some great sage
had been reborn in me
and nothing was new
under the sun

We talked
ate
kissed
I leave
and feel empty
Because the moment I walked
through my front door
I wasn’t going to find you
I was looking for
the part of me
that’s missing

Accepting that I might need medication
for the rest of my life
hurt
But it hurt less
than
trying
to quit it

I’ve begun to realize
that great minds
don’t need a thousand words
to change a life
Often
ten
within a poem
can light up
the entire world

I feel like I’m about to explode
Not from something bad
But from joy, yes
The very thing I once judged
Turned against me
I had no idea the twist life had in store
I spoke so poorly of poetry
Old thing, boring thing
But now my words
Only know how to be poetic
What was poetry again?
Ah
Yes, my life is now this
Everything is now song and poetry
Life is more beautiful, more colorful
My heart has learned
to love speaking

I will respect you.
You did it
you climbed out of the hole
you once called home
and you flew.
Fly, my love,
you are free
to soar.

Understand this once and for all!
Within me, I am as many as I choose to be
Don’t get me wrong
I’m not sick
I’ve never been as sane as I am today
But the strength of a single woman is not enough for me
I need to be many
I need to be Athena
But I also need to be Persephone
At times I’ll be Hera
But most of the time, Aphrodite
And, strangely enough, I’ll be Hestia, Demeter, and Artemis
All at once, or in their rightful time
Because this is me—unique
Goddess of myself

at my graduation
there wasn’t anyone there
I wished was there
even you weren’t there
but your ex was
after getting my diploma
I went back to our little house
in the middle of the community
with no idea about the future
feeling so alone
I cried
cried endlessly
no one to comfort me
I wanted to stab my heart right there
I felt
there was something deeply wrong with me

Excuse me
I am a powerful woman
How did I let myself
get so lost
so easily?

I can be a woman
I can be feminine
I can be a girlfriend
I can be a wife
I can be a mother
I can be all these things at once
and still be me
I can be everything I want to be
not to save someone
not to heal someone
but because this is who I am
it’s how I came into this world

I was crying in your arms
Then I lifted my head and looked at you
You blinked at me, not knowing what to do
And right then I knew
The journey to finding myself
would be mine
alone

will everyone abuse me?
no one ever touched my body
but they all took a piece of me
I guess that’s why I’m empty

I’m ashamed to show myself
What will people think?
I’ve lived my whole life in the church
They’ll cast me out
And me?
Will I stop
loving myself?

In all my stories
I always die in the end
It can be a freedom
It can be a prison
So no matter the story
I choose to tell
the ending will be the same
I don’t think that’s a bad thing

I read something the other day—
what if I want to be a mediocre person?
I felt I wasn’t alone
I felt relief
Because with two degrees
and unemployed
you start to feel useless
For so long I listened
to the voices of my parents
and other people
telling me I should do this
or that
Yet I never asked myself
what I actually wanted
I was always in some spotlight
a little popular
somewhat known
It’s exhausting, really
But for some reason
I kept chasing it
when everything in me
was screaming
to be nobody
to disappear
to be a stranger
in this world
to be mediocre
to have no riches
no extraordinary career
no mansion
but to be simple
insignificant
just another face in the crowd
just myself
That life, with no sparkle or luxury
seemed far better
than any life
I could choose to live

When I was a child
I played with the egg carton
scattered paperclips around the house
bottle caps
nail polish
anything
that could be a passenger
on my spaceship

Crying is part of it.
So is regret.
And yes—if it could ****,
I’d already be dead.
But by my own hand,
not because he destroyed me.
(I wouldn’t give him
that pleasure.)