I don’t know what balance feels like.
I don’t cry, I pour my eyes out until they’re swollen.
I don’t smile, I radiate a glow that can easily blind you.
I don’t get angry, I turn to fire and burn everything around.
I don’t have sex, I merge into your being, passionatly penatrating your heart.

I am a complex being.
Won’t you write your PhD on how you tamed my heart?

When All You Knew Was The Rain

I don’t know when I first fell in love with him.
From spring to summer,
Summer to autumn
Autumn to winter
Do you know the exact day the season changes?

They say when a relationship ends love stops.

Tell me,
Do the seasons stop changing
when you move from Mexico to the arctic?
Or do you simply learn to enjoy the snow,
when all you knew was rain.


Paint me

He once asked me what it felt like to write poetry.
He wondered how someone so cold and distant
had the ability to make others feel so deeply.

I don’t know.
I guess that’s what I do.

Love? He asked

I disguise pain with pretty words
And fear with bravery.
I paint an alternative universe.
A more perfect one.

Paint me he pleaded.
Paint me into your universe,
with your beautiful words.

I can’t. 
My canvas already
belong to someone else.

For how long?

Lead The Revolution

Show me your heart he demanded.
A habit he had, 
He always demanded too much. 
Love, kindness
To not use the word “sure” as a response 
To shrink. 

Love me he demanded.
Be soft. Smile.
So the next time the palm of his hands
traces your cheeks it will be to caress this time. 

Fear me he demanded. 
Do not look straight at the lion’s eyes. 
So the next time his hands are around your neck
it would be so he could get a better grip,
tilt your head back
and kiss that sweet spot right under your collarbone.

But you come from a generation of women
whose blood burn bright like fire 
and bones strong like steel.
They ran wild with the wolfs.
Can’t you see?
It is in your nature to lead the revolution
My love
He is not the one tying you down 
You are.

Mornings Like This

On an early sunday morning,
while waltzing to the sounds of birds and coffee brewing
Illuminated by nothing but the break of dawn
he leans into you and whispers
“I dont make a habit of dancing with princesses,
But i promise to make you queen of the dance.”

and so you smile.
That was the moment you realised
love was not about giving away all you had.
Love was about growing to be a better version of yourself.

He could hold your waist,
or stare deep into your eyes.
But the steps
those steps were all you.

woman standing by one foot and holding flare stick near trees
Photo by Wellington Cunha on