Drag a pen across paper, etching your pain into the fibers, leaving behind a trail of tear-stained corners. Breathe hot, alcohol-scented breaths into the pages, a futile attempt to silence the screams within. Handle it with caution, as if it were poison, a dangerous concoction of your innermost thoughts and emotions.

Slide it between the leaves of an old dusty book, a hidden treasure of your turmoil, and then walk away, never to revisit its haunting words. Feel it in the swell of your chest on good days, a reminder that even in moments of joy, the pain still lingers. Recognize it in the sounds of the world around you, an intangible presence that permeates every aspect of your existence.

Regiment your stanza lengths, your rhyme schemes, a structured facade to conceal the chaos within. Read it back and find no trace of yourself in the printed letters, a disconnect between the words and your true essence. Leave it on your desk, a silent plea for recognition in a world that often overlooks the raw and vulnerable.

Record yourself talking on sleepless nights, a desperate attempt to quiet the racing thoughts. Count your syllables like sheep, hoping to find solace in the rhythm of your own voice. Tattoo it on your body, a permanent reminder of the pain you carry, a symbol of your resilience in the face of adversity.

Break the rules, let the words flow freely like a hurricane, uncontained and wild. Feel it in a lover’s pulse, the unspoken language of touch and connection. Write it into a notebook, leaving pieces of your soul scattered throughout the pages, a cathartic release of the emotions that weigh heavy on your heart.

Sign it with pride, a testament to your strength and vulnerability. And then, with bated breath, wait for someone to read it, to find comfort in the echoes of your pain, to realize that they are not alone in their struggles.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer