She lost thin hair
for worries.
The bones shrank
without stunning pain.
Body hunched
but still working.

Seeing lost angels
passing through,
dark labyrinths,
an alley of exiles.
No artifacts, no money
no fame…

So, why does she act
as if it belongs to her
all the tangy sweet world
in royal dominion?

She loves …
almost everyone
without any love.

Oh, this invisible,
subtle tenderness!
Too quiet to be spotted
by deafening loudness.

I’m kissing your silence!
It’s so true and unfailed.
It is my escapement
Of not being shamed.

I’m kissing your voice!
For me it’s the world!
And when I depart,
Let it to moan.

I’m kissing you whole,
All wrinkles, all moles.
You are my safe refuge,
No doubts, no faults.

A different stage, a different story
Yet the same effect that poetry has on me
When the pain gets overwhelming
When I can't tell a soul a single thing
I tell through poetry.

You can't expect everyone to understand
And you can't trust everyone
Because they might judge you,
Leave you,
Or tell you things you don't want to hear
Or what you already know
It's what I fear.

Poetry doesn't judge
It doesn't talk
It only listens.

You don't even have to be afraid
To be your vulnerable self
Poetry is your friend.