𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎
𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎.
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚗.
𝙰𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢,
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚘𝚛
𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚢;
𝙸'𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕’s 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜.

..
𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑠，
𝑖 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝..
𝑖 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓
𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓
𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑
𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑜
𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑙 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑠
ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑠
𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟
..

Devouring cigar after cigar,
with sad music playing
in the background,
and an old picture of you
glowing through my screen

What have I done so perfectly
to be trapped in
this heavenly lifetime
with your love?

I stare at your picture,
weeping from longing and love,
calling you,
wanting you,
yearning for a miracle that
would gather us
and breathe life
back into our love

What terrifies me is that
you are no longer here…
but I am going to ink your name
into my blood,
to keep you alive within me—
physically and mentally

I want to draw you on my skin
so I will never escape you,
never recover from you
So that each time
my eyes fall upon this tattoo,
etched just above my heart,
I am reminded that I belong to you…
even if you are unaware of it,
or choose to ignore it
or simply do not want it
And I am ready to die
a thousand light-years
for you

But before that,
I am on the verge of completing
all those acts lovers commit
when they defy every boundary
for the sake of love
And after this tattoo,
only one thing will remain—
publishing the book
I am now writing for you,
About Daniel
28/11/2020

I love you now,
and in the afterlife

Your wife,
Nicole

Do I really have to completely and painfully forget about us, deeply and frenetically in love, passionately devouring each other?!
Must I abandon my sincere dream of being joyfully and profoundly yours?
How can I escape being so obsessed with all of you? I’m surprised by my own strength, acting as if none of the turmoil around us matters.
I can’t overcome this silence and emotionless moment, but I swear it’s all due to the melancholy inside me.
I’m depressed, yet you’re still the one and only who can drive me crazy.

Grief has a lexicon that
I’ve spent a period of
hard times seeking it
I gained nothing but an enormous
failure to devote myself
to its complete literature,
The perfect Salvia Plath is
patting on my cumulative sores,
admitting that it is my right to
file a grievance against my chores,
work, and daily unfair routine,
as she said that she used to be
so wicked; writing all the day
and forgetting about studying,
she said that I had gotten such a
black-and-white soul for
almost uncountable centuries of
self-wars,
Dear Nicole: She wrote—  
Whether you are a believer or not,
You dare to be the
ninety-nine hundredth savior to
the definition of our nihilism.
Sincerely yours,
Sylvia Plath
I closed my eyes and
bleakly enjoyed her poetic
admission that I had faked it
for a while to
keep my victories beating
against all the brightness and
naturality inside of
my pores,
I’m not a happy person;
I belong to sorrow.

Baba,
I know you better now.
After a long, ferocious time—almost thirty years,
I couldn’t write you a poem that expresses my mixed feelings toward you.
Despite this inconsistency between knowing you and being unable to write to you, we are not arguing or fighting anymore.
My cumulative hatred toward you is calming down.
I forgot about all the wounds that you had drawn on my borderline personality disorder portrait and the demonic words that you used to say to me every morning and night.
I got rid of all the ruins that you had spent time injecting into my pores.
No more writing dark letters and lifting them with balloons to the world to show it how evil you were or spending three hours creating black-and-white videos about family abuse and not posting them anywhere.
I’m a grown woman today; I’m thirty years old, I guess. Keep this in mind.
Baba, in spite of these unfair feelings, I love you to the point of tears.

Your daughter
Nicole.

I wish it had been my soul that
was stolen, not you—
That I had died before
you slipped away from me
What storm,
what havoc could ever
tear you from within me?
No trick of memory,
no phantom thief of mind
Dares to pry you loose,
though I bleed in the struggle—
Struggling so fierce
I nearly cradle
death’s cold embrace,
Walking barefoot
across a sea of my
own shattered soul,
Until I stand where
neither you nor I can reach—
Where tides of memory
drown and hope is lost—
I am ready to
surrender life itself,
If only to forget you
forevermore

You were always
my one and
only child
My most
cherished
desirable
responsibility
I long to
carry you away
from those toxic
exploitative
friends
who use you
break you and
tear you apart
Whenever
they wound you
you come and
pour your anger
upon me
and still
I welcome it
because
I am utterly
yours

I wish to
watch over you
to follow
the trace of
your steps
to guard you
from
every shadow
of trouble

All those women
whom
your handsomeness
mesmerizes—
you might play
your silent games
with them
just as you did
with me—
but they never
fall for it
That breaks you
shatters you further
and yet
here I remain
secretly
I watch you
your eyes fixed
on her photo
on your phone
the first woman
who utterly
ruined you
witnessing
the rest of
your soul
bleed while
I am no nurse
only a heart that
loves you
beyond reason

I chase you
with prayers
with madness
with unwavering
determination to
remain by your side
I am gently
desperately
in love with your
short-tempered mind
with the way you
seek refuge in me—
even though
you never
promised to
stay forever
I feel as
if I am here only
until you find
your way
back to her
only until she can
shatter you more
I am sorry
I cannot stay
neutral
cannot shield myself
cannot distance
myself from
the gravity of you

I loved you with
all the pain in me—
my family’s negligence
my scars from
emotional and
physical abuse—
and I came
to you with
a heart whole
and overflowing,
ready to be your wife
your mother
your sanctuary
your entire world
How can I
silence my mind
when it tortures me
with your image
when I find you in
every fresh scent
in every drop
of rain
in every whisper
of nature
in every wave that
kisses the shore?
I am not hallucinating;
I am wholly
endlessly
in love with you

I ache to save you—
from yourself
from the trouble that
surrounds you
from the sins that
gnaw at
your spirit—
praying that
God will
not take you away
not now
not from me
What more
can I do to
convince the world
that I would endure
your storm
your borderlines
your fury
endlessly
infinitely
without hesitation?

I love you
save me from
the torment of
worrying over you
Save my soul
and return to me
unscathed
No medicine
no sleeping pill
can still
this restless heart—
not even Seroquel
which once lulled me
into forgetfulness

What prayers
what sacred whispers
could possibly
call you
back to me?
Come back—
I am terrified of
losing you
for you are
the very reason
I am still alive

My sweetheart Daniel
with every prayer
I whisper
I feel the world
rising between us
A thousand
invisible walls
attempting to
tear us apart
With each heartfelt
supplication
misfortune
shadows your path
And the world
conspires to
convince me that
you are not
meant for me
Yet I defy
the impossible
For I have loved you
beyond reason
And I will never
abandon my faith
that miracles
can bloom
even in the
darkest nights

No matter how
harsh you are
no matter how
you wound
I know the weight of
your days
The loneliness
of childhood
The sting of
a family that
treated you differently
from your siblings…
I carry it all
quietly in my heart,
And I will never
let go of you
No matter what
storms may come
No matter how
fierce the night
I will love you
forever

—Your Loyal Temporary Wife

I dream of you,
calling my name for help.
And I remember
how truthful I was—
thinking of ways
to reach your hand,
though I knew
this was only a dream.

I saw the glimmer
of a crushed tear
falling from you,
and I burned—
with pain,
with rage for you.

I tried to catch you,
ignoring the doubt,
ignoring the truth of sleep.

All I knew—
you are always my child,
and I will follow no other truth,
even if it costs me
my entire life.

I wept,
calling your name
a thousand times,
trying to soothe you
while you cried.

I wanted—
all at once—
to catch your hand,
to kiss your forehead,
to calm you,
to forgive you,
to pray to God
that this was real,
not a dream.

I woke,
and cried in rage.
How could you be
only in my dreams,
and not in my present,
nor my future?

When I woke,
I took revenge on myself—
smoked two packs of cigarettes,
stood beneath
a cold-water shower—
knowing it is, scientifically,
a “benefit,”
but choosing it
because it is the thing
I hate the most in life.

I denied myself popsicles,
and every small pleasure
my body craves.

That terrifies me.
Yet all prayers belong to you.

I wish to touch your fear again
and tear it apart—
to steal you from the darkness,
to consume your terror,
your misery.

I spend my days without you,
without your honeyed words—
the ones you and I both know
were only for your gain,
vanishing the moment
I refused to give
what you wanted.

And still,
despite knowing,
I loved you.

God knows
I am ready to take you back,
to accept your sins,
your narcissism.

I prefer to cry beside you
than laugh with someone else.

It terrifies me—
the thought of being happy
with someone else.

It chills me to imagine
my loyalty belonging
to anyone but you,
to imagine walking past you
and pretending you’re not there.

I reject it all.
I want to remain
forever and always
available to you—
so that if you ever
knock on my door,
you’ll find the heart
that once held you
still burning,
still dying for you.

I cannot help
but stay loyal.
I made a book cover
with the ache to write you
hundreds of poems.

And I bought you
a vital necklace—
to mark the memory of our first meeting,
to symbolize my love for you,
to show that every part of me
belongs to you.

I intended to fill it with my blood—
a proof, in the most extreme, impossible way,
of my love for you.

But know this—
this necklace is just a simple gift.
You know, it is not only drops of my blood for you,
I am entirely yours.

I am ready, in every possible way,
to prove my love to you—
but you are not here
to receive it.

To prove,
in every unreasonable,
impossible way,
that I love you—
that I can do nothing in this life
but yearn for you.

Day and night taste bitter.
The sea feels far away,
hope feels far away—
and you.

When you blocked me,
I hired multiple Ubers
just to use their phones
to reach you.

I called,
I cried,
I said “I love you”
again and again,
while you hung up.

Even the drivers
felt the intensity of my love for you,
but you did not.

You fed on my tears,
yet I do not blame you now.

I am only afraid—
afraid every time I want to call you,
afraid every time I press your number,
my heart races,
my colon aches,
and I pull back.

Now I speak to God about you,
to the world about you,
to every wave, every bird, every cat
that crosses my path—
I ask them to pray for your return.

Yes, I want you,
and the thought of you being with someone else terrifies me.

Even knowing
that your disorder thrives on staying for gain,
that you will love only yourself,
and only remain with those
who feed you materially, emotionally, spiritually—
I still love you.

Sometimes I pity you,
sometimes I blame your family,
sometimes I fear for you
from your own self,
the self that commands evil.

Sometimes I fear someone might report you,
and you end up in prison…
I am full of fear and ruin.
God, save me.

I am terrifyingly yearning for you,
without confidence,
with great fear
that God might give me
someone “better.”

But He knows
I need no one better than you.

You are my complete,
complicated drug.

If I had great luck with another,
I’d give it to my sisters
so they could be happy—
but for me,
You and only you.

I would spend my life
fixing your uncontainable pieces,
putting them together,
so we could be whole.

I fear being happy with anyone else.
You are my child, my husband,
the thought of you being alone and hungry at night
kills my sleep.

I dare not abandon your childish soul.
I must be prepared
to always be there.

My Lord,
I know You love me,
I know You want to give me the best—
but I need him,
and only him.

No one can touch my feelings
but him.

I am ready
to give up my happiness
for the honor
of being torn apart
beside him.

I would rather be your greatest sin,
The one you crushed with your own hands — emotionally, mentally —
Than to pray for someone better.
It is better to stop here,
No longing for a life beyond you.

You yearn for money, grand houses, shining cars.
And I — I yearn only for you.
You used me as a bridge, a stepping stone toward your dreams,
And yet, I prayed you would be my last harbor, my refuge.

And still, I ache to be your great sin, your Karma.
I want to watch you stumble through misfortunes,
To see despair darken your days as it once darkened mine.
I want you to return to my Hello Poetry website,
To read, with grief, how fiercely I loved you,
After you lose me forever.
Yes, you will return — that is all you will ever have from me,
For I will no longer breathe in this world.

And despite all I write, this is me — trembling with guilt and fear for you.
I do not wish to be cruel, I do not wish to hurt you.
Yet you have broken me so deeply, I laugh through my tears.
I love you so much that it terrifies me,
And I fear that my love, unguarded, will burn you,
Even as I ache to be the shadow in your joy,
The misfortune that follows you like a whisper.

I long for days so deadly that nature itself rebels against you,
Yet I tremble at the thought of your pain.
I want you to weep over my grave, begging my forgiveness,
To stand straight and implore God a hundred times to soften my heart,
To fear the nights and the days,
Not knowing what else my Karma has reserved.

I do not crave a new happy life, nor a perfect husband.
I yearn only to be the one who makes you wish to turn back time,
To keep me, to pamper me, to dare not touch me,
To dare not gaslight me.
And yet, a piece of me cries for your safety,
For your peace, for your heart untouched by my wrath.

I want you to ache for the hours lost,
So that whenever I wrote you a poem,
You would read it with passion, not remind me that you dislike reading.
And still, I wish your nights be gentle,
Even as I long to be the storm that haunts your dreams.

I learned to code games for you —
For birthdays, anniversaries, every trivial and sacred moment.
I gave all I had to give.

But now… after you lose me,
After I bear the weight of loving you to death,

I see it coming.
You will fall for another who will never love you,
Who trades your feelings for coins,
Who uses you without care.

I feel it approaching:
The times you hung up, calling me stupid,
The times you threw things at me,
The moments I sent voice messages, crying, begging for your ear,
And you replied once — a single, hollow message —
I deleted them all, I did not listen.
The times you reminded me my family didn’t love me,
That you were the only one who did.
The times you left me on my own,
The times you threw me from your car, telling me to take an Uber home.

Do you think you are spared from this?
God is just.

Yet my hope clings:
I will watch it all from my grave —
Seeing you return to the sites I built for you,
Rereading the hundreds of messages I wrote,
Over and over, haunted by my absence.

I know it is coming.
God knows my heart, knows that your tears are my weakness.
Perhaps I will even ask Him to forgive you,
Even after all the pain carved into me.

I smoke endlessly, searching for ways to punish myself,
For I was never enough.
I wish for you never to ask for forgiveness,
For I will no longer exist to answer.

You have shattered me a million times.
And Karma is real.
You will know, in that moment.

No Dodge, no sea-side mansion, no Rolex upon your wrist,
Could ever replace the love I poured.

The woman who loved you madly once sold her phone,
Even her Nintendo Switch — not for their worth,
But to buy one more hour, one more breath, while you threatened to leave.
She thought: If I can buy one more hour, perhaps I can save you,
Perhaps I can hold on to what slips through my fingers.
She gave them up, not for their value, but for a chance to keep you a little longer.
And for herself, she bought only a cheap phone, to survive,
So she would not remain with nothing.

Yet still, you humiliated her, drenched her in water,
As if her sacrifices were ashes.
What cruelty is this?
What blindness, not to see her love as the true currency —
Not gold, not games, not phones.

Your birthday will come, and she will do nothing for you.
You will measure what I gave against what she offers.
Yet the true torment will be your love for her.
You will attempt to erase my Karma —
Every act of kindness, charity in my name, good deeds for my sake —
But my shadow will haunt you.
You will long for that girl to be me in spirit, yet live as her.

I know that day is coming.
I feel it approaching like a storm on the horizon.
Do you have the strength to endure it?
I doubt it.

And still… despite all…
I wish my journey to end here, at this station.
For I have loved you beyond measure.
I desire no greater joy, no replacement, no reward.
I seek only the ending.
I am a woman matured in heart and soul,
Certain of my desires, unwavering in my truth.

I know perfectly well that the video games I made for your birthday,
Which you humored me by pretending to like,
You will play later.
You will wish it had been that other woman who made them.
You will rage at God as I have gone to Him,
Questioning why He did not give me better,
Why He took me,
Why He did not place me with the best man,
Why He did not make you forget me,
Why He let me die grieving over you.

And you will cry to Him every day, telling Him how much you love the woman beside you —
But she will never love you.

Only then will you realize there is no escape from the justice of the Lord.
All you had to do was treat me kindly, wipe my tears, soothe my fear —
It would have cost nothing. Yet you chose to hurt me.

I only need You, my Lord, to gently pat my heart until I meet You…
Just for this time, I long for a handful of ice upon my soul,
A soft frost upon my burning heart,
And nothing else but that… until everything comes to an end.

And yet, in the midst of this torment, I tremble with love for you.
I fear for you with a depth that shatters me.
I do not wish you pain, and yet I long to be the shadow that darkens your steps,
The unlucky star that follows your every dawn.
I love you so fiercely, yet my love is my vengeance.
I want to save you, and I want you to suffer —
All at once, all at the same time.

‎‏I danced through, your eternal desires
like a prohibited shimmered star
that has no ethereal heaven to belong to,
where the lone fear scattered in
its enigmatic expanse
dared to accost the whole cosmic void,
you said that I was like a breathtaking nightmare
that tenderly captured you and
left you breathless.
But I knew It was like a momentary trace,
you would never be mine, my fervent boy.

English is a medicine, not a pathogen.
English is safety, not war.
English is kindness, not viciousness.
English is a trust, not a trap.
English is a gift, not a robbery.
English is freedom, not detention.
English is a poem, not a verdict.
English is a reward, not a punishment.
English is a fairytale, not a calamity.
English is forgiveness, not accusation.
English is honesty, not manipulation; keep it close so it will fly mountains for you, and so I am.

I would die for another fight,
another calamitous night,
another plight,
and more dark moments
next to you.
Now,
I'm still unfamiliar with this peace
without you here to wreck it.
I miss you.

It’s all our typos fault,
incomplete stanzas are weeping,
blackness into an ocean
full of sparkles,
dots that stamp on
chaotic poems.
I forget the passcode
of our favorite verses
as I'm still there wandering
for some complex curses
to decay the rhythmic lock
of our typewriter.
Hello World! is a code
for hacking into poetic souls,
Out there.

she kept her death
within her breath,
she joined the destruction
with its half seduction.
until she fell in love with
its obstruction.


by:blackedpoison

How can I liberate myself
When my hands are not handcuffed
Yet my mind yearns endlessly
For more of you around?

There were black and white balloons that rose into his beautiful, colorful soul. He kept their Helium safe, glowing within his incredible sympathy. My poems are floating for the sake of love and longing. I’m the grayscale little paper boat that merges with his bright-colored ocean.

This trap is filled with poetic tricks…
Sorry, but I knew it…
I can sense your devilish intention,
Through your charms
But I'm still there…
close to your heart, trying to
Teach it how to be kind and harmless…
Also, still,
This pain is familiar.
Those tricks are similar.
But I got used to horrific nightmares…
I would not ask you to stop.
I would keep my midnight prayers
For the earth to make a safe crack
Between our contradictory intentions…
Go home; leave me for my beautiful
nightmares and that ancient level of pain.
I’m totally fine with them.

I’m home again,
alone,
with the same tragedy
that I used to smile through.
With the same cup of coffee prepared,
yet I’ll never drink it.
I’m home,
strong,
yet lonely,
seeking solace through my silence.
I have no expectations for tonight,
except finding joy
in solitude.
In love with the silent moments
of mine.
I’m home.

How could I escape all our secret places,
dark hours,
physical fights,
and emotional negligence?

How could I pass all our memories and
the people who have some of your features,
as if I’m searching for your smile,
gaze,
and redheaded handsomeness
through all the passersby?

How could I pray to God
not to keep me drowning in our days?

I’m not okay
I’m yearning to write
something perfectly precise
to show how much I endure this pain of
being apart from you

I miss calling you “Dad,”
“Husband,”
and all those words
I wish I could call you again.

What if you already found someone else and
forgot about me?
What if I was nothing to you?

I loved you through all this havoc that
tears me apart and chokes me with
hopeless thoughts.

How dare you,
after all our fights,
break the habit you always had
— speaking to me,
shouting and promising you’d never leave,
that you’d stay by my side forever?

Today, I’m alone
—without you,
without any hope.
Like a lost child who needs a hug,
unconditional love,
and a forever sanctuary.

I miss you like a dying soul
seeking refuge in life,
like an open ocean that
longs for closure.
Can’t you feel me?
You are my twin flame.
You should feel how much we were born
to be together.

I’m eating alone,
wandering alone,
and I’m not okay.

What kind of spell
could scar my memory so deeply
that it shuts you down forever?

I am no longer yours to keep hidden,
They all know now,
Yet you refuse to acknowledge
That I am yours.
After the battles I fought for us,
To be together,
You vanished from the truth's gaze,
And sought refuge in falsehoods.
I apologize for investing so much in you,
For sacrificing everything
For your sake.
I regret clinging to the hope
Of our forever.
I'm sorry.

Just Smile,
Make these lullabies’ wonders shine.
I used to hover over the bleakness.
But exclusively for you, I will angelically fly Thousand miles.
Turn this miserable wood into a real paradise,
Just smile.

The final written
poetic line of mine
was yours.
I still strive
for more innovation..
that made the apprehension
no longer a pal.
I'm yearning for
your altruism
to assist me again
with my trepidation.
Mi amore,
I called you my home
as it was the most
gentle exorcism prayer
that would beautifully
evict the demonic attack
of my anguish
and set my remaining
awareness perfectly at ease.

He left.
I’m not ready to cheer myself up again; to bring all the bright phrases to the point of being so intense and real inside my flesh, I prefer to commit to writing deadly, like there’s nothing more interesting than stamping your departed soul with all the Poets’ nihilism.

It's killing me when
I couldn't reach you anymore,
when I couldn't fight for you
or even cheer you up.
How far we've come,
you and I,
like a spell without its flame.
I miss you and the way I
used to pamper you on your birthday,
but today I couldn't even say it to you
because we are no longer together.
I'm bleeding from the inside,
and you're not here
to tell me to stop overreacting
and grow up.
I miss you,
I really do.

I will drag your predation  to mine
to mix it and prepare it as a perfect wine.
I will not leave your line
until I make sure that our gloom is fine.
trust this dust-path and this shrine
of our love that will always mar the sunshine.

Sadness is shivering,
a broken heart is healing,
madness is calming down,
Nothing is the same.
Birds, flowers, and the moon are upstairs,
flowing through my wounds like velvet glares,
Patching the appalling nights,
wandering around and spreading lights.
I’m in love with myself today,
after he came in and sent the fear away.

I was born to be alone..
As you weren’t there
for all my panic attacks
when I sent you a message
that I needed you right now
as my hands were shivering
to the point that I couldn't yearn for help,
when the doctor was the only one
who patted my shoulder and said;
It's okay, you are safe now…
When I saw a semi-reflection of my parents
through your soul….
Well, I’m here, fighting demons,
As it’s Thursday,
and you didn’t come home.
I know I should do better
and ignore this intense fear of mine.
I should yearn for something else
rather than the idea of
your colorful permanent settlement
in my black-and-white corners.

They are both crowded, my calamity and your selfishness.
Our birds left, and we are still whistling for the sake of patching this failure.
That colorful portrait you etched on our hallway is pondering integrity, still wandering into this massive mess.
Our woods are filled with broken musical boxes, as we are still there, sensing their tenderness, drowning in our psychosis’s final chapters.

ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ɪꜱ ꜱʜʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ.
ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜱ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀꜱᴇ.
ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ
ɪꜱ ꜱʜᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ꜱᴏᴜʟ ᴅᴏᴡɴ.

You ruined me completely,
Yet I still dare not close my eyes—
Afraid to meet your gaze,
That lures me through
the chaos of my soul
I cannot reach you,
nor forget you,
Yet I wish to name
my garden after you,
With its spring flowers
that might infect you
With gentleness and
tenderness
Still, I dare not
fall asleep or dream,
For your presence
would trap me once again
And though
I’d never confess this to you—
I secretly cherish
this sacred torment, truly I do

Same words
Same tricks
And same humor,
I would not interrupt either of the masterpieces.
I will completely show my admiration.
Both traps are alluring.
But I'm too careful not to get trapped.

Seagulls are over there,
awaiting your call,
to desperately penetrate your layers,
in order to master integrity,
inside your velvet ocean.

I wish I could cut my heart in half
to distract the inflammation inside
and ferociously dive
into the inner weeping
for the sake of rebuking sobriety itself
To braggingly behave.
I’m a hopeless woman
who keeps hacking into little things
that powerfully destroy her.

My lord,
I decay,
Then I flourish,
I collapse,
Then I sprout out,
Wounds,
Chasms,
split open,
Rupturing,
Overexposing The virtuousness,
Ripping it out of my flesh.
I am in agony,
but I love you.

He is an alert child,
trapped in the predicament of
growing up,
swollen with a forceful,
armed heart,
sinking in an intensifying
neutral panic,
in the middle of innocuous paradise.
Parched,
hungry for tranquility
among a ripe, fruity spring.

she reached this ugly place
and found a dark trace
that captured the terror within her face,

the trace became like a hole
within her senses and heart
like a nasty big ball

she ran towards nothing !
like she was in an actual race
because, this dark lie!
put her in a dangerous case
until the trace shone again!
behind her, like a grace
and suddenly, stood up!
in front of her!
like a heaven base

she stoped, and felt sorry
when the evilness within the grace, was too sick
she licked its inner wounds so quick
until it healed, and its health became thick
but all of the sudden,
  she felt the hit!
on her head by a huge stick.

there
within this scary darkness
she left her breath with sadness
and about the evilness
that hiding within the grace soul
you can taste its gladness

The day I craved you
When the sunlight was accurately positive.
When the world was beautifully discussing your handsomeness with all the curious gardens,
I gave up on my parchments for the sake of admiring your features more and being blessed with you every day; despite it taking up my words, my ancient quill, and my beauty. I’m still a believer in your magic. I’m no longer a mermaid; I’m the betrayer of the ocean.