When I met tragedy
She was beautiful
Like bleeding wrists
And dead daydreams

When I met tragedy
I fell in love
Her watery eyes
Her blue lips

But Soon,
She faded,
A sinking ship
A full moon
A rose's thorns in bloom

Gone was my apathy
...When I met tragedy...

I will be your lover in the light.
Your safe harbor at night.
When your feeling alone I'll be the one to guide you home.
Follow me with bright eyes,
I'll protect you from the lies.
Let me be the wind beneath your wings, the whispers of hope in your dreams.
I'll be your strength, your confidence.
I'll be yours

i don’t know anymore
the parts of me that are genuine
from those which are stolen.
i just don’t know.

your golden statue does not quiver
the words that you sent three years ago
the cat licks his paw in the corner
he has forgotten by now.

the wild blue eyes that were tamed by your glasses
the thin silver rim against pale white skin
the way you would sway while playing your guitar
your gentle way of letting me in…

i knew the second i first saw you
that my life had changed
but it took a while to realize
that i would change too

i’ve taken bits and fragments
when no one was looking,
i threw out old pieces
to fit the new

three years have passed
the barista
the accountant
the librarian

all different versions of myself
yet still i can’t put my finger on it
i still don’t know what is left
what is it that was taken?

three years
and i’ve become
everything
that you would have
wanted me
to be.

We are passing through a blue
period after
a grey period: 'Surely
a green age will follow.' You
stifle your remorse. We are on
our way to
yet
another chance
for tears
in our mother's eyes. Don't you agree? Mothers
enfolded
in the depths -the depths
of land dear
to our souls - where the gods
live
steeped in their
energy. That energy
is proof enough that never, not for
one single
moment, have their hearts
departed
from that magnetic place.
               Magnetic? Of course...
Alone in those lands,
they hang on to their sadness, their wisdom,
while their children
              reach out to catch
                         the golden ring of freedom,
and the risk:

the risk of wandering on an endless,
senseless pilgrimage. Flying
like model planes? Oh,
the thrill
until -
three thousand, twelve thousand
years - they're found, fossilised in sedimentary rocks,
mothers
separated from their children, layers
and layers apart, preserved,
with a bit of luck, in mint condition
(maybe) buried
with all the things that might
be needed in the afterlife...
A movement
from East to West, following
the progress
of the sun. What

was I saying? Oh yes, we are passing through
a blue period, after
a grey period...

Liviu Ioan Stoiciu, from Born in Romania, Contemporary Literature Press, Bucharest 2014

I'll write you a poem
when you break my heart into pieces.

I'll write you a poem
when you leave and ruin me.

I'll write you a poem
I want my heart good and broken.

Use me like a rag doll

and I'll write beautiful
and bittersweet
words.

I want to give you every single broken part of me
not so you could place my broken pieces into place
but so you can see the scars on my rib cage and the ruins in my heart

I want to be intertwined, you within me
not to feel the momentary glimpse of heaven
but for us to envelope each others bodies
filling empty creases

I want to dissolve into your chest
not to rest my mind and forget the days strife
but to feel your heart beating on my mind
creating our own rhythm

I want to live under your bed sheets
not to hide from the world encompassing us
but to create our own kingdom
where our memories will live

I wanted to write a poem about flowers, so that's what I did.
It was short, expressed how I feel, and cut like glass.
I showed my father "Flowers" and he thought it was mediocre.
And I said, "No, "Mediocre" is the poem where I talk about dying,
and I'm trying to stay alive, so I wrote about flowers."

Flowers strangling soil plots with their roots, with their existence.
And to hurt something you love with your existence is a terrible feeling.

I emptied myself to make room for more beauty
More loveliness and grace
More feminine glow and fragile perfection
And tight skin over protruding bones
But I lost all my kindness
And my compassion
I emptied my sympathy for others
And now I'm full of rosy allure but not much else.