I’m from words

scattered on a page,

expelled from lips and flowing

from my fingers.

I’m from late nights

of heart-pounding stories,

my mother standing in the doorway

tapping her watch,

but I can’t stop, no

not until everything is resolved

and I can close my eyes to a welcoming darkness.

I’m from quiet nights

spent smudging ink on paper,

pouring my thoughts and frustrations

into the tight constrains

of a lined page.        



I’m from hazelnut chocolate,

strong coffee, and suitcases.

I’m from warm hugs, happy tears,

“Ich liebe dich” murmured into shoulders.

I’m from airports and airplanes,

huddling under thin blue blankets,

counting down to when the wheels

will touch land again.

I’m from a language

where there is no “goodbye”—

only “until we see again.”



I’m from moments when

you feel as if you are infinite;

racing hearts, sweaty palms

and the type of laughter

that makes your eyes water

and your chest ache.

I’m from the heavy confessions

said only in the early hours of the morning

when laughter comes freely

and the darkness allows you

a sort of confidence

you’ve never even dreamed of.

I’m from times when near-strangers

become your second family.

Nervous laughter and butterflies,

orange juice at breakfast and

the muttered reassurances that

“yes we will be back by nine.”

Wet hair and listening through doors,

spending way too much for a scoop of gelato,

but most importantly,

I’m from moments

of careless freedom.