"Whatever is supposed to happen, will happen."

But what about all the effort, pain, love--
will this all just be for nothing?

Today in my anatomy class
We did an experiment on pain
Seeing if you could feel a needle
Pricking at your skin slightly
Well, I never felt a single thing
I told my partner to push harder
Still nothing, I felt no pain at all
When I got home, I looked at myself
Connecting that experiment to my life
I no longer can feel pain it seems
Unless it is just excruciating pain
But I don't feel anything, I am nothing
I will always have sympathy for people
But I can no longer feel the pain myself
I will help others through tough situations
But then when I'm in something similar
I feel nothing, not caring about myself
Is this an issue? Yes, I know it is
I have no feelings, but filled with emotion
Maybe it's good I feel nothing at all
Because now I won't be hurt anymore

I walked past the coffee shop

And I reached my pocket

Only to find my phone, ringing

It dropped on the ground, and shattered

What followed were painful moments

Of lonely nights and restless fingers

One day a bird showed up, asked me

“Which way the wind blows?” I said,

“It blows where you intend to fly, never stops”

Then, someone woke me up -

I felt disconnected from the ways of life

Was I in a long dream, or awake all the time?

It certainly did not seem either,

I had been mesmerized by the love

Of a lady, magical and distant

Who knew nothing but to stop time

And all that seemed disconnected,

Were in fact doors to her, the one

And such has been my way of life.

All I want to do,
is hold you and tell you it will all work out for the best.
But it doesn't does it?
Instead of being in love,
we are here.
Staring at one another,
lost and drowning in too many wrong words.
Spit it out, spit them all out I say.
I'd rather too many wrong words,
than not enough right ones.

I once told you
that you are the only one who has ever inspired poetry in me.
Which isn't quite true,
but true enough.
You are the only one who inspires poetry out of love
Not pain.
You didn't shatter me like the one before,
who inspired so much darkness it filled my pages for years.
Instead, your freckles were the stars the guided me into hope.
Your eyes became emeralds that illuminated my poems with color.
You became the one.
The one who makes my voice stronger, my heart lighter, my me me-er
I am silly and light and infinite in your arms.
Even when my poetry is wrought with word *****,
the words are lyrical to my eyes and ears,
and if the poetry I write isn't meant to be for me,
then who is it meant for?

e com essa marra sua
eu faço nosso laço
e ajeito nosso passo
como quem se perpetua

e com esse teu jeitinho
eu nos desenho, sem pressa
te encho de carinho
e o delírio me atravessa

na tua cama
contorno as tuas linhas
que eu sei não serem minhas
mas trato como quem ama

e nesse paralelo criado
nesse universo só nosso
eu faço o que posso
pra ver o mundo atravessado

como quem ama
meu bem