She has no name, Olivia,
she has large eyes,
projectors of her soul.
Her eyes illuminate presence,
the simple and profound presence of being.
She is ageless
even though she has traveled around the sun 29 times.
She resolves existentialism
just by walking,
and chooses to be.
She is not from anywhere,
but the planet
chooses to inhabit her.
She speaks only one language,
with a sweet accent.
She speaks the language of love.

"Sad with a vocation for joy,
joyful on the outside but eternally sad on the inside.

A smile and a head held high,
as if nothing had happened,
after all, we're adults.

Adults don't cry.

Anger, bitterness, expectations, and loves,
all in the dark room of depression,
residing in my chest.

A smile and a head held high.

We can't show vulnerability.

The desire to take away this misfortune,
or to take away a part that's no longer ours,
or perhaps that sadness that shelters us in solitude,
is what we want to take away.

But it's the only thing that accompanies us,
that doesn't make us feel so alone.
Even though she's guilty,
of so much loneliness,
of not showing who we are,
and what we feel.