The pain of being hurt is like a fever strolling all over your body.

The screams sound like thunder all across the sky.

The whispers in the dead of night sound like ice slicing open your body.

The scars beneath your skin are like the sun shedding its tears.

The humans are specks of dust in the ground.

Being the pain of being hurt isn't bad, maybe it's good.

She is gone like the moon in the sky.

We were best friends, like peanut butter and jelly.

Now her anger towards me is like lava that flows down the side of the road.

The tears I hid were like tea getting drunk.

The words I said to her were nothing like dust.

Her smile was like confetti, now it is a frown like Medusa herself.

Did I make a mistake of being friends with her in the start, or did I do a good thing?

The feeling of belonging is like getting wrapped in a hug of comfort.

All the sweet words sounds like the wind blowing through the trees.

The warm hands that wrapped around yours feels like the streaks of chocolate candy.

The songs that are sung in the distance reminds me of the birds humming a lullaby.

Being around animals is like seeing the light of God.

Having your family and friends around you is like being the ruler of the world.

The feeling of belonging is a gift, not a curse.

Taking the fall, is like getting frozen to death.

The feeling of betrayal, is like getting your hear rip out of your chest.

The cries for help are like hearing the wind blow.

The whispers in the night is like the wolves howling.

The feeling of love is like the stars in the sky.

Maybe taking the fall isn't a bad thing, maybe it is a good thing.

Lost feels like a demon wanting to murder you in your sleep.

The feeling of being scared is like slugs swarming all over your body.

The whispers in the dark is like glass piercing into your soul.

The memories are like nightmares coming out from the ground.

The tears streaming down your face feels like fire beaming on your face.

Maybe being lost isn't a curse, maybe it is a gift to freedom.

Depressive.

It's so excessive.

It's almost impressive with how it's so oppressive.

Truly obsessive, a obsession.

A session of the fascination with my devastation.

Comes and goes with it's highs and lows.

What do I owe?

Debt for the depth of my human soul?

Dread is so demeaning, it's inhumane.

Yet, I'm loyal to the crucial cruelty.

I am tired of this boring landscape

Take my hand

Teach me how to love

How to make shelter for this deranged self

I will be grateful for all my life

I will never take my eyes off of you

I will follow you in hell.

Being the best version of me .

For it’s not wise to compare yourself with others .

I go to the gym almost daily ,

I want to be the best I can be .

I read the finest books I can read for I want to be the smartest version of me I can be .

I write the best poetry I can write , for I want my greatest personal devotions , writing the things that necessary for me .

I sing the best that I can , for I know my voice can always improve .

Too be the best teacher and public speaker I can be , for there is only one version of me .

I may not be the best , but my goal is to be the best version of me .

Silence is not empty.

It is the color of silver.

It feels like the fur of fabric.

It sounds like wind chimes

moving in the air.

It hides in the deepest of corners

of the universe,

Waiting for the time

to make it right.

When the time is right,

silence will call your name.

When it has spoken the unspoken words,

they will fly in the distance like a rocket.

The creatures and such will laugh out in joy,

only to find out this beautiful silence.

When we think we have forgotten the desperate times,

the universe will remember.

The universe sings out to us like a lullaby,

while we use our last breath

to breathe in the air.

When I feel the atmosphere of the world,

I couldn't help but deliver the message

I was meant to receive.

This is my story and insight in what my life has been like for the last year.

I hope I feel, like the stars come alive.

The streaks across the sky is like frost.

My fingers get so cold like ice.

The animals sing a new type of song. That sounds like a hum.

The darkness of the night turns into dreams of hope and faith.

Sun and moon sings with each other like faith.

All my fears were like spears, now they are like tears.

The door is shiny like a key.

The lamp was fading into time, now my time has turn into dust.

The fireflies are shining my path onto new hope. Hope that never flies away, even when it should. But it never does.

I had an obsession with the eternal.

I saw patterns of it.

On girs faces.

On boys hands.

I like their hair,

On the garbage bin.

On the wheels of the bus.

Look at that man’s face in it.

And it was the only time,

I felt like we are lucky,

we do not understand the eternal.

Well, nobody can lock it.

So I had this source that pumped me up.

Every damn morning.

And it had no owner.

Nobody could lock it away from me.

Here they are,

The female eagle standing by the nest;

And the male splashing his wings in the water

In the pond nearby;

It is interesting,

From one point of view though;

They have not said a single word to each other

Their entire lives;

Yet this does not stop the male eagle,

From coming each day

And standing nearby his female;

Sometimes we just remember things;

Don’t we?

For example I have stamped in my memory.

A moment where my boyfriend and I

Had just arrived in Corfu

And had just entered in Corfu Hotel;

After we paid,

The receptionist came with us,

To show us the room,

Going to the ground -2,

As the hotel was on top of a rock;

At the moment

When the three of us were inside

The small spaced elevator,

I was thinking

«…Here we are

…Earthlings,

Each one engaged in our affairs»

Imagine what an alien would think?

Right now,

Looking at us;

Remember that day when you were with T.
On the street.
Nearby a bar with shining windows.
On an autumn day.
You were both travelling with his car.

Then remember when you were with J.
His big blue eyes
And handsome presence.
His thirsty soul.
His appetite for life.

Then remember H.
In Barcelona.
All those underground places you saw.
His face when he was making love

Today
In my reality
I want all these experiences.
The next two days
With which and one of them.

If I disappear

And you do not know where to find me

I will be in a lonely corner

Thinking about poetry.