My age is nothing but  26 years of pseudo experience buried deep into my unexplainably sad eyes ...

Brown pages
Cataract Lenses
Polaroids
and a smile
fading in my words
written with a pencil on
Brown pages

Arranged meetings
Arranged greetings
Arranged smiles and well designed spoken lines ...
They always give me orders:
“Now sit ... speak ...
Introduce your self ... No, wait the girl doesn’t speak ...
just listen ...
Listen till your temper starts to peak ...
Be nice, Be kind ...
Ignore his immature idiotic mind ... “
So I sit and I listen and I ignore ... but I speak!
And when I speak ... the freak ... disappears!

She had a perfume that smelled like jasmine when she woke me up in the morning and like roses when she tucked me in at night

It was the same perfume sprayed from the same bottle, but it smelled different every time I visited her

Her perfume translated her feelings into delicate smells … smells I will never be able to forget

The same perfume is still sprayed from the same bottle …
but now … it smells like fear

She no longer wears that perfume … “it makes me sad” she says …
It makes us all sad! …

Its drizzling droplets brushes against our senses awakening sedated memories …
Memories of …

Of grandpa’s happy eyes, warm embracing voice and tender sheltering hug … he was the kind of person whose presence can be felt from a distance. He would smile every time your eyes meet his as if he was noticing you for the very first time …

Of mother’s childhood dreams tucked carefully in her braided hair …
Of baby brother’s golden straight hair and wide curious brown eyes

Of our tiny apartment whose windows allowed light to enter only from her room … the burgundy colored velvet salon chairs neatly covered by off white sheets … the noisy fridge who made sure everyone noticed me steeling ice-cream at midnight …

Grandma’s perfume harbors our memories …
Its droplets carry away our happiness leaving us stinking of fear!

If you just wait till I get to the end of my sentence you will hear
The rolling ,rumbling ,howling waves come to a tickling calmness...
kissing my anxiety’s toes ...

Slam the door shut
on my dreams
In my heart
Carve a deep cut
It no longer feels
Pain ...

How can you ever hug someone who’s too broken to fit themselves into your arms
How can you collect their pieces if every time you touch them you bleed ...

I want the world to notice the spark of hope residing in my eyes
I want to help all people
I want to share my experience with the entire world
I want to shout out loud my dreams
I want to spend my life learning, teaching, studying, reading, writing, watching ...
I want to make a difference in the lives of all those I meet ... even the evil ones!
I want to meet their insecurities with my high self esteem ,Their cruelty with the loads of love hidden in my huge heart and their hurtful plans with forgiving prayers ...
I want to be me again ...

Tangled thoughts
Flooded eyes and a runny nose
I have so much to say but no words are close ...

I contain her thoughts
Her secrets
Her sorrow
I harbor her sadness
Her loneliness
Her quarrels
I’m not just a poem
I am her refuge ... I am her hope ...

Its brightness compels me to peek through the truth
To observe the gray
To listen to stories told by painted lines
And to find my way
through channels dug by grief

She was borne at dawn, in a tent, on a rooftop
Her moon like eyes reflected lightening the way mirrors brutally reflects imperfections
Her tiny hands had engraved palmar creases that spelled “strength”
Her smile was the rarest of sapphires and to dishonesty her heart was stealth
She grew up longing for the day she leaves her tent to face the world
Every night she goes to sleep to watch her dreams unfold
She dreams of lions speaking of fear
roaming around like clouds
A sword and a torch appear in her tiny hands
“I will defeat you” she says
But she wakes up! …
Only with warm tears blocking her eyesight … …
She used the torch to seal the tent closed
And the sword to cut herself a tiny window
From which she could look out
convincing herself that … this way … she can safely face the world!
So, she stays …
In the tent … on the rooftop …

I miss you
I miss me
Like a furnace I was fed with coal and fuel
but I was quite …
Spitting out fire sparks every now and then
Hurting no one but myself
The heat pushed you away …
Pushed everyone away
Except for those who accidentally caught fire!
In an attempt to cool down I blew steam into my soul
Melting down every good memory …
I thought by burning them down I would have nothing to lose … no one to mistrust… no one to “mislove”…
I thought the calm ashes would finally bring me peace …
Now here I am standing -buried in the suffocating ashes- waiting for a phoenix to emerge …
I can see no phoenixes leaving this furnace …

He left

Because when he looks in my eyes he sees sheer excitement peaking through dark shades of sorrow

Because when he listens to my voice he hears thunder

Because when he looks at my body he is struck by the radiating strength that forces tears out of his eyes
My smile sends paralyzing pulses down his spine

He left

Because he gets dizzy when his pupils are obliged to follow my hand gestures
When I unfold my shoulders, raise my chin and say „I love you“

He left

Because it’s too much ...
Because it‘s too strong ...
Because I’m too strong ...