I spent forever trying to spell out the emotions I felt, whether they were painted, etched, sketched, or sewn into my flesh. You were a kaleidoscopic array of eccentric prose, a vibrant explosion of color and chaos that I couldn’t quite learn how to mold. Each attempt to capture your essence felt incomplete, as though words alone were insufficient to convey the depth of my feelings. I began to think that loving you was easier through the acrylics, charcoal, and watercolor, and their hydrophilic pages. With each brushstroke and each line, I sought to create a portrayal that might show … Continue reading Feelings

I heard a woman say today that she felt like she was sinking further and further into a hole she couldn’t get out of. And I remember myself saying something similar. But as I was thinking about it today, I realized that maybe that’s not such a bad thing. If you feel like you’re already buried beneath the weight of the world, the hard part is already over. Life has already planted you in its garden. Now, you must learn the art of growing roots. Stretch your palms out into the darkness, grip onto it, strangle it, and take it … Continue reading November, 06 2013

I drowned countless times in my own tears, sir. I rowed against and with the current so much that I no longer knew when I was going against or with it. I cast the anchor when it was time to depart; I departed when it was time to dock. I suffered from hunger and excesses, sir. I suffered from mirages and silences. I sailed towards the storms, always at the convenience of my tides. I invented pirates to plunder my treasures. I became a distant daughter of the constellations. I graduated in time as a sailor without ever learning to … Continue reading Drowned

Aujourd’hui, je me confesse, mon âme est à nu, dévoilée, telle une robe démodée. Elle a été arrachée de mes os, dévorée et régurgitée comme un plat interdit, consommé trop précipitamment. Aujourd’hui, mon âme est blessée, ravagée… Les tourments de la vie ont laissé des cicatrices profondes, des marques indélébiles sur mon être. Les épreuves ont ébranlé ma foi, ont fait vaciller mes convictions les plus profondes. Je me sens déchiré, brisé, comme si mon essence même avait été mise à mal. Dans ce confessionnal solitaire, à cette heure tardive, je déverse mes peines, mes regrets, mes remords. Je me … Continue reading Confessionnel à 01h07

You mistake tolerance for acceptance, acceptance for apology, common sense for liberalism, civil duty as charity—all under the guise of some profound form of enlightenment. Yet my name, language, ethnicity, religion, and “culture” all become subject to your western fetishization. Somehow, for some reason, it’s still acceptable to portray the non-white individual as the “other,” as something to be fascinated by. As if fundamentally altering the course of our history, and ultimately our existence, wasn’t enough for you. Contrary to popular belief, we aren’t here for handouts, or charity, or for our plight to be acknowledged. We are more than … Continue reading We are more than Our Skin

It is fairly simple. Hate comes back as hate, love comes back as love. Life is a cycle that completes itself, shaped by the choices we make and how we allow circumstances to affect us. Each action, each emotion, sets off a ripple that returns to us, echoing the energy we put out into the world. When we choose hate, we invite darkness into our lives, a shadow that grows and returns to us, feeding on our negativity. It is a cycle of pain and suffering, perpetuated by our own choices. But when we choose love, we open ourselves to … Continue reading Circle

On a serene Saturday morning, lay naked in fresh sheets, embracing your vulnerability and pride. Blush as you peek through your fingers, watching how the beams of light dance on your skin. Love yourself deeply, instead of seeking it in others. Whisper affection to your thighs, comparing them to captivating landscapes. Recite forgotten love notes to your hips, apologizing for past hurts and yearning for simpler connections. Remember, letting go doesn’t mean weakness. Explore every dip and crevice of your body, each curve, speck, and scar. Apologize to every part you’ve hurt, reminding yourself of your substance and core. Teach … Continue reading Naked

You taste like the poetry I wish I could write. Your essence lingers on my lips, a symphony of words unspoken, verses yet to be penned. Each kiss is a stanza, each touch a line, weaving a tapestry of emotions that I yearn to capture in the art of my writing. You are the inspiration behind every unfinished poem, the muse that stirs my soul and ignites my creativity. In your presence, I feel the rush of words flooding my mind, dancing on the edge of my consciousness, begging to be released. But no matter how I try, the poetry … Continue reading Bia’s Prose

Ingmar Bergman’s words from “Through A Glass Darkly” eloquently capture the fragility of our personal boundaries and the vulnerability inherent in our attempts to protect ourselves from life’s unpredictability. The metaphor of drawing a magic circle around oneself symbolizes our desire to create a safe space, a sanctuary for our inner thoughts and secret dreams. However, life, with its relentless force, often breaks through these defenses, rendering our carefully constructed games seemingly insignificant. Each time this happens, we are compelled to redraw our boundaries, to rebuild our defenses in a continuous cycle of self-preservation. This reflection speaks to the human … Continue reading Bergman’s Words

He filled himself with emptiness, and it was the absence that oppressed his chest. A void that accompanied him, growing heavier during the nights. He lived to forget himself; he ran to avoid himself. The empty elevator, the crowded office, the gym, the traffic jam, the anxieties, lunch, dinner, the fear, and the distant gaze were all measures to avoid confronting himself. What would he say to himself if he could? What truth would he rub in his own face? What sadness would he choose to cry over? He pushed love away when love chose him. And perhaps that was … Continue reading Urban Life