In poetry, when I come to drink from you, I am no longer myself. I have been deprived of the “me” that carries a name and a history. I am only the act of drinking. It is a hunger so pure it becomes transparent. Here, in this white space between letters, I say goodbye to my sorrows, not because they are gone, but because they have become too heavy to carry into the kingdom of words. I come to these sentences only to see you, though seeing is a kind of blindness when the light is this bright.

The Anatomy of Love
Know this: if you cannot endure, if you cannot travel through the jagged distances to die of love, then I am already dead beside you. We are two mirrors facing each other, reflecting a void that is somehow full. Love is not a choice; it is a surrender to its own inevitable destinies. It is a beast that eats its own heart to stay alive.

The Immensity and the Color
My destiny for the moment, if one can call this suspension a destiny, is to suffer from the sheer immensities of what you have brought me. You gave me the world, and now the world is too much. I am living on the edges of the emptiness that remains when you are gone. It is a fertile hollow, a silence that screams.

The world has faded now. It has bleached into a pale, dusty grey. It had to. We were too bright, weren’t we? We became so violently colorful that the reality around us simply couldn’t keep up. We exhausted the spectrum. Now, there is only this: the pulse, the word, and the beautiful, terrible exhaustion of having been everything at once.
💗❤️💚💛💙💜

©️ Beatriz Esmer