Spill yourself out!

Pour yourself onto the paper, let the ink flow like a river, carrying the weight of your unspoken words. Drag the pen across the page, etching your story into the fibers, staining it with tear marks and the rawness of your emotions. Breathe life into the pages, infusing them with the scent of your struggles, the echoes of your internal battles. Handle it as though it were poison, for the words you spill onto the paper are potent, a reflection of your deepest truths. Slide it between the leaves of an old, dusty book, a relic of your unspoken confessions, … Continue reading Spill yourself out!

Sensitive beings

In the quiet spaces where words fade into the hush of solitude, there exists a realm where sensitivity blossoms into understanding. Anyone can hear the notes of a whispered heart, but it takes a soul attuned to the delicate symphony of emotions to truly comprehend the unspoken language of the silent and the lonely. These are the gentle souls whose love transcends the limitations of speech, whose affection flows in the graceful arcs of their gestures. They are the ones whose presence is a soothing balm, whose touch carries the weight of a thousand unspoken confessions. In their silence, they … Continue reading Sensitive beings

The questions …

“What do you want?” they asked, their voices lingering in the air like a whisper carried by the wind. “Nothing,” I replied, my words a gentle defiance, “I have myself and my will and my fights.” “But what will make you happy?” they persisted; their concern etched in the lines of their faces. I shook my head, at a loss for words, for how do I express the yearning that resides within me? How do I articulate the longing for sunsets that paint the sky in hues of fiery passion, and whirlwinds that dance with untamed freedom? How do I … Continue reading The questions …

Little things …

It is the little things that occupy the deepest spaces in the heart. Like hidden treasures nestled in the secret chambers of the soul, these small gestures, delicate words, and authentic gestures of love are the ones we will carry with us forever. They are the whispered “I love you” in the quiet of the night, a gentle melody that lingers in the heart long after the words have faded into the embrace of memory. They are the tender caress of a hand, a silent reassurance that speaks volumes without a single syllable. They are the shared laughter that dances … Continue reading Little things …

I learnt from the flowers …

I wasn’t always a woman, I wasn’t always this soft; I had to learn from the flowers after the storm, how to be, and how to survive them, both. I am the bloom that rises from the wreckage, the petal that unfurls in the aftermath of chaos. I am the alchemy of strength and vulnerability, the resilience that emerges from the tempest, softened by the gentle touch of grace. I learned from the flowers, those delicate warriors who bow to the fury of the storm and rise again, adorned with the shimmering pearls of rain. I learned to weather the … Continue reading I learnt from the flowers …

Sometimes we need this to bear our raw reality …

To romanticize the world is to peel back the layers of reality and reveal the enchantment that lies beneath. It is to awaken the soul to the magic, mystery, and wonder that dance through the fabric of existence. It is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, and the finite as infinite. In the romanticized world, every dewdrop on a petal is a glistening gem, every rustling leaf a whispered secret, and every sunset a masterpiece painted by the hand of divinity. It is a world where the scent … Continue reading Sometimes we need this to bear our raw reality …

Your eyes: the color of poetry

I am seeking the very flowers in your eyes, let me rest my gaze on your iris! Pollinated pupil; ripe. Ripe with meaning, swollen with assurance. God’s tongue. You speak to me in the forgotten language of souls. I remember how we used to speak through silence before all the noise came. In the garden of your eyes, I find the blossoms of truth, delicate petals that whisper secrets only the heart can hear. Each glance is a dance, a ballet of emotions that twirls and pirouettes, painting a picture of love and understanding. Your eyes are the windows to … Continue reading Your eyes: the color of poetry

Just be …

Forget about love. About finding it. Forget about your heart that breaks like porcelain. No, something more difficult to sweep up off the floor. Your heart like glass. Forget about it. You will go on anyway, no matter how many shards are left scattered across the years. Forget about the people you broke too. The ones you couldn’t get out from under your skin. Forget about things that remind you that love is the color of bleeding. Forget about what you used to heal the wounds. Forget about love. Forget about being alone when you are alone and just be … Continue reading Just be …

Ma belle amie …

Le corps n’oublie jamais rien ! Elle a avancé comme une automate, résignée et bien droite, aristocrate, mais elle portait des souliers de plomb. D’un coup, son décor en carton a explosé. Et elle se débat, pour enfin vivre, lâcher ses combats, pour enfin rire, mais elle est fatiguée de tant de lourdeur, elle ne voulait que l’amour, le bonheur ! Ma belle amie, je voudrais tant t’aider. Je peux te donner ma tendresse et t’aimer, je peux te dire de croire en la magie, magie de cet univers qui crée la vie ! Le poids de la douleur, il … Continue reading Ma belle amie …

Language of feelings

In the quiet depths of an unspoken anguish, there lies a pain that refuses to be contained by silence. It echoes through the chambers of the heart, a wordless lament that cannot be stilled. Yet, in that same silence, there exists a love that whispers softly, weaving its tender embrace through the fabric of our souls. The language of pain is a word that speaks directly to our innermost being, reaching out with a raw and unyielding honesty. It stands in parallel to the language of love, a sacred vow that binds us together in moments of both joy and … Continue reading Language of feelings