I wish
all of my blood
would cover the kitchen floor
so I’d know
the end had come

Why won’t it cut?
I’ve run the knife so many times
but nothing comes out of my thigh
at least,
my tears have stopped falling

Everything in life is a process
It’s more about letting go and learning to stay
There is no control
Only cycles and adaptation
Here’s the question:
Do trees cry when their leaves fall in autumn?
They mix into the ground
a blessing to the soil
a party for some passing child
Even the tree understands
that not everything is meant to stay
But from what goes away
a new beginning is born in its place

My greatest fear
is telling someone
all the pain I’ve been through
how many times I cried
and hearing them say
it was all in my head

Like a tree
I have lived
Every mark I carry
is one of my victories
scars of war
That’s why
I love myself
because I am still here

No
It’s not that I want to be some new, renowned poet or writer
Remembered in the future
When children will hold their schoolbooks
Studying literature
No, God forbid
I just have to throw these things out
All these words suffocating me
I think I have the gift
**** the rules and the standards
I need healing

my alarm rings
I turn it off
on autopilot
I stay in bed
eyes closed
I need to live this day
yes, my soul says
get up, I tell my body
it stays in the same place
so I remain
in the same place

I run my fingers
between my legs
searching for pleasure
something that
usually
I don’t feel in my day-to-day
just a little, I beg
make me feel
something

It took me a while to understand
that life happens in active mode
not passive
Everything is beautiful
in my mind
But lying in bed
or sitting on the couch
won’t bring that beauty
into my life

I am the Samaritan woman
I understand her completely now
Every day I went to the well to draw water
But I never truly drank
Drank to quench the soul
I found my Christ—stunned
Dehydrated
Needy
It’s too much, I can’t contain the emotion
I want
more
more
more
more
and never stop…

One day,
these tears will stop falling.
The well will run dry,
and I will be able
to smile again.

My therapist kept saying
“It’s about you”
Yes, it’s about me
But that phrase is an entire world of possibilities
and I only saw
the words

The pain
that tears through my chest,
from top to bottom—
there are no words
to truly describe it.

It is only
pain.

when you look in the mirror and see no one.
when everything happens on autopilot.
when your best friends are your room and your bed.
when everyone is happy and you’re the only sad one in the room.
when you’re startled by the thought that life is no longer worth living.
when you’re already cutting yourself just to feel anything but the pain.

You thought I would
wilt like a flower
disintegrate
and become part of the soil
I’m sorry, love
You messed with a phoenix
You turned me into ashes
but I will rise again
better than I was before
So know that every time
you knock me down
you only make me
stronger

The words come so quickly
I have no choice but
to pour them all onto the page
Let life carry me
Life, carry me away…

I seemed to be on a good curve toward healing
Everything was falling into place
Then a wave came
and washed it all away
It’s what the doctors call
ICD F33

I want to rewrite my love story
I want to live a love, yes
intense,
romantic,
but healthy.
A love where we grow together
without me losing
myself.

Funny how everything can turn into art in my hands
I’m not good with spoken words
But they flow freely
through my mind and heart

When I was a child
I would watch from my window
as the other kids played in the courtyard
My mother said it was dangerous
That I shouldn’t mix with that kind of crowd
And so the idea was planted
that the world is far too dangerous
to be lived

Doing my nails
playing my favorite song
smelling fabric softener
putting on makeup
were
forms of healing

You found this book on the last shelf
of an old, dusty bookstore
Yes
I didn’t write this to be a success
Only those who truly want to be healed
will find me

I decided to run a test
throw a few words on paper
see what would happen
and I was amazed
by what I found

You chose to move on
and I respect that.
I’m sorry—
truly, deeply sorry—
for destroying us.

I miss us.
I miss the love
that was more attachment
and dependence
than anything else,
but still—
it was something.
It was family.

When I was little
I wanted to write romance novels
It was all I read
But my heart won’t let me
No matter how many love stories I start
My soulmate is poetry

I don’t want money!
How many times do I have to say it?
I know my verses will lead to nothing
But at least I’m whole
Isn’t that what we needed?
A purpose
I’ve found mine: writing cheap poetry
that only sells to crazy hearts longing to understand
Understand what?
I have no idea
I only know that art is this—being ecstatic
Not trapped in some rule because someone said so
Do it differently
Put that dot outside the curve and
Tada! Art!
Only there does the magic make sense
Sorry, babe, you tried so hard to make me rich
But I found my wealth elsewhere
I know, you’ll tell me that money can’t buy happiness
But it can buy many other things
Still, without it
I found peace

This week’s reading
began with a card called Hope
It was exactly what I needed today

The life we built together
feels centuries away
I can’t remember it anymore
but I know it existed
Sometimes
I’m startled
I no longer have you
Sometimes
it makes me desperate
Sometimes
it makes me
incredibly happy

I found out you moved on,
you’re with another woman.

I felt nothing.

I thought I would cry,
tear my hair out over you—
but I think I love myself now.

My weekly therapy sessions worked.

Wholeness
That must be the word
If it’s not, that’s fine
I couldn’t care less
I know what I feel, and I can’t deny it
My verses are not for you
They’re for me
Period.
If you understand, congratulations
If not, I’m sorry
Go find a book—one with over a thousand words
Even better if it’s self-help
I need only a few words to say what I want
My therapy is in the verses
I owe nothing to anyone
Liberating
That could be the word too
Doesn’t matter to me
I simply cross my legs in the hammock
and spot a new world of possibilities
waiting for me

I don’t want crumbs
I want gold
wheat
honey
the finest and rarest in this world
I am not cheap
My mental health has cost me dearly
My tears
are priceless
I’d like to see you pay for them all
I cried for everyone
But I cried most for myself
for letting me cry for those who didn’t deserve it
for giving space
and letting them destroy my peace
I owe nothing to anyone anymore
Yet everyone owes me
Starting with the one who writes to you now
I owe myself
a great deal of love

Seeing you happy,
traveling to a place
we once planned to go,
leaves a bitter taste
and makes my stomach tremble.
I wish I were there with you.
I feel I’ve lost so much
I feel I’ve lost
us.

They told me
that the more time passes
after a breakup
the more we tend to think
poorly of our ex-partners
I don’t want to think badly of you
But with each of our misencounters
I find more reasons to believe
I was married to a madman

"Are you on ***?"
"I'm talking to you nicely and you come at me with rudeness"
This… is you
reacting to the version of me
that sets boundaries

I had already understood
that it was about choosing
what made me feel good
but
what if what made me feel good
wasn’t what God wanted for me?
For so long
I chained myself to this doubt
this anxiety
I came to the conclusion
that I was no saint
that the ticket to hell
was free
while the ticket to heaven
cost me far too much
So maybe
I should try my luck
live whatever life could give me at its best
Because only in the end
would I know
if God would have mercy on me

I think I need to wash my soul
All the water I drink every day
makes no difference
I’m not sure if I’m writing poetry or music
I guess it doesn’t matter
Right now I just need to let it out
I read the other day that it takes maturity to be happy
So please
don’t give me happiness
give me maturity
Because I don’t know how to be happy
I’m still a child
I need to grow