#betweenthewords
I sat on the edge of the bed.
You smiled.
I am your daughter,
But words mean to you
Something else.
I took your hand,
Telling you I haven’t slept for a year.
I write reflections,
Tame the voices behind my left ear,
Assemble thoughts about the darkness.
I pour a warm, salty liquid
That burns the skin – it doesn’t moisturize.
It helps me,
This pseudo-therapy.
I hide behind my nickname,
So that no one holds me accountable
For what I’m supposed to be.
You also sat up at night,
You read books.
You carried hidden sadness,
I stick a smile on my lips.
I hug people who carry Egregores.
You and I,
we are not afraid of the night.
Your hand is cold.
You smile,
You put together syllables into strange words.
You know that I matter to you.
I pretend to understand
What you wanted to say.
In a moment, it will get hard.
You’ll start screaming like a little boy,
Or again you’ll wait
Until this state of life passes you.
Life?
It’s a kind of space
Where people, because of fear
Bite and scratch
Like frightened, rabid dogs –
And then soothe it
With controlled tenderness.
I sit with you on the edge of the couch
And I think:
We write with the left hand.
We are beings of the night.
Our path was shared –
In fear, to protect a small piece of “I”.
I fear I’ll lose language.
I desperately defend myself against silence.
I dream of non-human languages.
I write words as if I wanted
To cast spells on reality –
Still, it’s not enough.
The anesthesia stopped working.
One day, this will be the end,
Yet as long as I live,
I’ll be the naive one.
That’s what I want.
I choose sweet, sugar-coated hope,
With pink sprinkles,
Telling myself that he, she
Didn’t mean to trample –
Only life pushed them
Into that dark corridor.
My hope
Is not a soft blanket,
This is a heavy, tight helmet.
Aug 7, 2025
Aug 7, 2025 at 5:30 AM UTC
in a downpour of rain.
the world fades away in a flash
of white.
the rain slants and drizzles,
Beginning to fill the gaps of potholes.
And crooked cracks left empty
against the pavement.
the drivers behind
the wheels of their cars
turn their windshield wipers
on high, to no avail.
Their wipers constantly beaded
down, covered white.
Fading away.
the downpour is too heavy.
the rain is too heavy.
It's thuds bead down
against the metal car roofs.
my heart too sways in the wind.
Pinged and drenched,
caught in the downpour of how your
heart's whispers have turned to screams.
rain-soaked tears unveiled to fill the
gaps of all things missing.
including the distance between you and I.
Soon, I too will errupt and overflow.
Fading away in a flash of white
Jul 9, 2024
Jul 9, 2024 at 6:54 PM UTC