Sitting on the beach,
a gray day,
her in my lap.

An anonymous beach,
in Tuscany.

My mind speaks,
it won’t stop.

My mind
wants to write.

There are poets
who never fell in love.

There are people in prison
who committed no crimes.

White gloves
hiding atrocities.

Strong people
with broken hearts.

There is love
within heartbreak.

Religious men
who don’t believe in God.

Judges of life
with their own transgressions.

Thinkers who do not think,
and lovers who do not love.

There are free minds
trapped behind walls.

There are vagabonds
more cultured
than your professor.

There are salty rivers,
and love that never meets.

There are those with millions
in the bank,
yet empty hearts.

Today,
I am grateful
to have found you.

Life kicked me,
even when
I was already down.

It left me so many times,
alone,
thinking no one cared.

I had so much love to give,
but I wasn’t the most beautiful
for those who sought it.

They mocked me
for being strange,
when they were the ones who didn’t understand.

I trusted those who swore to stay,
yet behind my back, they laughed.

I lost myself,
becoming
what others wanted me to be.

I loved who I shouldn’t have,
trusted who I couldn’t,
fought battles that weren’t mine.

Tired of the shadows,
I became light.

Until I learned to play,
to laugh,
and to love.

What did I learn?

I have a remedy,
an infusion,
a passion.

It will ease what troubles you—
your worries,
your pains.

Follow the advice
you’d give a friend.
You might stumble,
but you’ll feel whole again.

Feel with your soul,
think like a genius.

And above all,
hold on to your values,
never stop being you.

Without knowing what love was,
I gave you my heart.

Without knowing what love was,
I gave you all of me.

Without knowing what love was,
I put up no defenses.

Without knowing what love was,
we let each smile flow.

Without knowing what love was,
we hurt each other,
for not knowing how to love each other.

From a bench in the park,
I saw myself walking.

And I thought,
he looks good,
he works, he writes,
he does what he loves,
he has something to offer.

What I offer has value,
I have value.

They call me crazy,
because I want to love again.

I want a good love,
the one that brightens your mornings.

When the nights are short,
between laughter and laughter.

The one that when the wounds are scraped,
you talk.

The one that motivates you to get out of bed,
with the plan of going to the moon.

It whispers "I love you" in your ear,
because only you should know.

The one that just a glance,
says everything and says nothing.

Every morning when I wake up,
I tell myself how much I love myself.

I look in the mirror,
and say:
How beautiful!

I listen to myself
when I have a problem.

I prepare a delicious breakfast,
after work,
in the evenings, I train.

I take care of my friendships
and also my nutrition.

I take care of my appearance
and my thoughts.

I caress myself,
I give myself gifts,
and words of encouragement.

"Every gesture I give myself
is a hug to my soul,
and to my inner child.
I take care of myself, I love myself."

I can show you so many scenes,
from my entire life.
However I arrange them,
however I tell them,
the movie will be different.
The rich can be poor,
and love can be heartbreak.
Happiness can be boredom,
nostalgia can be sad.
The poor can be loved,
and heartbreak can be rich,
Happiness can be nostalgia,
and sadness can be boredom.
But behind all this,
there is you and your ivory smile.

You are my weapon,
my avenger,
the one I unleash
on anyone, anywhere.

Anyone guilty
of my lack of effort,
my frustration,
or of not being kind.

I fire you
for the things I lose
or the ones I fail to overcome.

I keep you tied to my waist,
always loaded,
but never well secured.

I **** you,
like a revolver in my hand,
and pull the trigger
with reckless passion.

I feel trapped in this cage,
bound, hands and feet.

I want to send you a message,
but I must respect your space,
as I respect my own.

The minutes stretch long,
too long,
yet they teach me
to love with patience.

Love is freedom,
and time, just an illusion.

I can’t control your choice,
but love must flow.

I don’t write to you,
but my love keeps shining.

I speak to you, son,
so that you will let me go,
let me go to heaven,
where the angels await me.

I speak to you, son,
so that you will know I'm okay,
let me continue on my path,
where I must go.

I speak to you, son,
so that you will not hold me back,
let me run among the clouds,
where my path has just begun.

I speak to you, son,
so that you will let me go,
let me go,
where my soul will be free.

Father, I understood that letting go of you is freeing myself.

Father, here I light these 5 candles,
one to thank you for each gift,
one to thank you for each moment given,
one to thank you for all you sacrificed for me,
one for each motivation and each affirmation,
one to thank you for each caress and each kiss.

5 candles that show all the love you gave me.
It wasn't enough, or not enough,
but it was what we knew how to give each other.

I'm letting you go.
Rest in peace.
I love you, Father.

I speak to you, my child,
so you may let me go,
let me rise to the heavens,
where the angels await me.

I speak to you, my child,
so you know that I am at peace,
so you allow me to continue my journey,
where I am meant to be.

I speak to you, my child,
so you don’t hold me back,
so you let me run among the clouds,
where my path has only just begun.

I speak to you, my child,
so you set me free,
so you let me let go,
where my soul will finally be free.

Father, I have understood that letting you go
is to set myself free.

Father, here I light these five candles,
one to thank you for every gift,
one to thank you for every moment we shared,
one to honor all your sacrifices for me,
one for every inspiration and affirmation,
one to cherish every touch and every kiss.

Five candles that hold all the love you gave me.
Was it enough or not?
It was all we knew how to give.

I let you go.
Rest in peace.
I love you, Father.

Art is living,
art is healing,
art is thinking.

Art is showing our essence,
in every stage of life,
in our own unique way.

Art is expression,
of the inner self,
of the emotional realm.

Art is emotions,
it is feelings,
something profound,
something free of mediocrity.

Art is loving,
kissing,
and caring.

Art is fighting through life,
facing the bad,
embracing the good,
and cherishing it all.

Art is your parents,
who cared for you
and gave you unconditional love.

Art is music,
those two notes
that make your heart burn with passion.

Art is walking through life,
grateful,
smiling,
without greed.

What is your art?

Deep in the Now,
there exists a kind of woman,
often attacked,
and sometimes rejected.

A warrior soul,
independent, rebellious,
the feminine in its purest state,
untamed and free.

She is the one
who left Eden,
forsaking the comfort of man
to carve her own path.

They say she was born
from Adam’s dust,
but made of pure energy
and empowerment.

She is where
the deepest passions
and the hidden faces emerge.

She is where life’s wounds,
fears, and shadows are faced,
where lost power is reclaimed.

A beautiful woman,
but I prefer her in the streets.

Because in my bed,
I want the one who surrenders,
the one who loves.

The one who cares for me,
and lets me care for her,
who speaks to me
through true communication.

And after long conversations,
time slips away unnoticed.

A beautiful woman,
in her fire and her calm,
Lilith in the streets, Eve at home.
Not because man commands it,
but because that is where she finds her balance.

I stayed waiting for you to call,
to solve our problems.

I stayed with my lipstick on,
waiting for you to take me to the beach.

I stayed all made up,
waiting for that romantic dinner.

The bed was completely messed up,
from that Fifty Shades of Grey night.

Everything would have been over,
if I had come closer to talk to you.

How hard expectations are.

What is this love thing?
... a verb disguised or confused with hormones and pheromones?
A place where we deal with our attachments and things we didn't understand?
A feeling of pride in what we've created and built with another person?
Or a place where we will be valued and accepted for who we are, with our vulnerabilities and flaws?
What is love?

Sleep, sleep, my love,
everything's alright, I'm here with you.

Rest,
rest now.

Snuggle close to me,
I will be the one
to take care of you.

Let that mind slow down,
let the thoughts fade,
wrap yourself in calm.

Fall into my arms,
I'll hold you tight,
and give you gentle caresses,
like mom and dad.

I'll whisper that story,
filled with hope and love,
of our future.

Sleep, sleep, my love,
everything's alright, I'm here with you.

Relax your body,
relax your soul,
and let your spirit rest.

Fall into the deepest
of dreams,
tomorrow will be
a beautiful day.

With butterflies,
flowers, and meadows.

The sun will rise again,
and life will smile once more.

Sleep, sleep, my love,
everything's alright, I'm here with you.

I ask,
Why me?

When I see the old man,
sitting by my side.

An old man with a notebook,
listening to my monologue.

Saying,
that I am the one who's wrong,
for complaining about life.

But he doesn’t know
what it means to live in my skin,
to be the echo of a scream
no one wants to hear.

And I care,
because I’ve always
been the one who's wrong.

My heart is sad,
And my soul is resigned.

Another stage,
Once again.

A transcendence of the inner self,
Of the wounded child.

Who understood,
Who realized.

What he didn't have,
He won't have.

That place,
That little piece of land,
That is family.

I don't deny that one day it will bloom,
but today I allow myself to feel.

It's only the transcendence of detachment.
Of what never was.

A closed flower,
that one day may open

Hello little dreamer,
I'm your adult self.

Being an adult isn't as magical as you think.

There are no great dragons,
but there will be
many cowards,
stabbing your back.

There are no great castles,
but there are treacherous ones,
losing their courage.

Thousands of tears will fall down your cheeks.

You will cry a thousand times,
for love.

Another 5,000 times you will get angry.

But everything has a meaning.

We embrace our mistakes,
and we love our wounds.

But we achieved
everything we dreamed of.

We fell,
but we learned to get up.

We have everything we wanted,
someone with tender eyes came to heal our hearts.

But I just want to tell you,
to enjoy life.

Enjoy every moment,
live, because
every moment will be a memory,
in your soul.

I never asked your permission to love,
Nor did I ever thank you,
for all the times I've loved.
You pumped up every emotion,
You pumped up every dream.
I never apologized for all the times I've broken you,
Nor did I have compassion,
Thanks to you, I have life,
Thanks to you, I live life.

10 days,
and 20 nights.

Sleeping,
but never resting.

I close my eyes,
tell my mind,
"You must stop!".

Silence arrives,
the calm before the disaster.

What will happen tomorrow?
And your love?
The payment?
The salary?

I want my body
to melt into the sheets,
to receive an embrace from the bed.

For the pillow
to absorb my thoughts.

For my soul to leave,
and return with the dawn.

I want to sleep,
so that in the morning I wake up,
as if yesterday
had never existed.

Everyone says I should feel proud,
for everything I've accomplished,
but the truth is, I feel tired.

Tired of meeting all those other people's expectations,
of not being able to give up.

I just want a day when no one expects anything from me,
just a hug,
but for them to come right up to me,
right up to my side so I can give it to them.

Tired of listening to solutions,
or opinions at best,
but no one looks inside,
my inside,
to see how I'm feeling.

Today, you can rest,
leave that battle for tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be a fresh start,
for the same fight.

Rest today, soldier,
it’s okay to feel tired.

It’s alright if today you can’t give more,
the universe will lend a hand.

Tomorrow, we’ll have new weapons,
new ideas, new energy.

Some days, you might feel weak,
some days, you might need to stop.

Sometimes, stopping is also part of the fight.

Today, you can rest,
leave that battle for tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be a fresh start,
for the same fight.

Rest today, soldier,
it’s okay to feel tired.

It’s alright if today you can’t give more,
the universe will lend a hand.

Tomorrow, we’ll have new weapons,
new ideas, new energy.

Some days, you might feel weak,
some days, you might need to stop.

Sometimes, stopping is also part of the fight.

"Each poem is a piece of manifestation writing."