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mauricioPoems
I arrived barefoot tongue heavy with borrowed syntax eyes trained on the flicker between gestures the way a hand hesitates before reaching the way silence folds itself into a question. I mistook bruises for constellations mapped them across the skin like ancient routes each one a pilgrimage each one a failed translation. I thought pain had grammar that longing could be conjugated into something less feral. the heart is not a scroll. it does not unroll neatly. it bleeds through the margins smudges the ink laughs at the scholar in me who still believes in clarity. I touched someone once and felt their grief like static a hum beneath the ribs a Morse code of everything unsaid. I tried to decode it but the symbols kept shifting love became hunger hunger became apology apology became a door I could not open. I am still learning that some hieroglyphs are meant to be lived not read. that some wounds speak in tongues only the body understands. that to be human is to misinterpret and keep interpreting until the ache becomes a kind of fluency.
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Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 5:47 PM UTC
in human form to decipher the hieroglyphs of love and suffering
I arrived barefoot tongue heavy with borrowed syntax eyes trained on the flicker between gestures the way a hand hesitates before reaching the way silence folds itself into a question. I mistook bruises for constellations mapped them across the skin like ancient routes each one a pilgrimage each one a failed translation. I thought pain had grammar that longing could be conjugated into something less feral. the heart is not a scroll. it does not unroll neatly. it bleeds through the margins smudges the ink laughs at the scholar in me who still believes in clarity. I touched someone once and felt their grief like static a hum beneath the ribs a Morse code of everything unsaid. I tried to decode it but the symbols kept shifting love became hunger hunger became apology apology became a door I could not open. I am still learning that some hieroglyphs are meant to be lived not read. that some wounds speak in tongues only the body understands. that to be human is to misinterpret and keep interpreting until the ache becomes a kind of fluency.
#wounds#ache#open#apology#grief#touch#skin#flicker#hand
mauricio
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mauricio
M
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 5:47 PM UTC
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