It’s not fair,
That you are all my happy thoughts,
and my deepest fears,
At the same time.

When my first lover left, I saved all his memories on white sheets of paper, With ink and blood. When i fell in love again, I celebrated my ability to still love and be loved, With poems and hearts drawn on every notebook corner. When i walked away on someone who loved me, And broke a heart that wished me no harm, I left my guilt between the pages of a notebook, I keep hidden under my bed. It’s assuring how i always knew, That i have my writing by my side. People come and go, but their stories stay, In the third drawer of my night stand. In nights, where nostalgia feeds on my sanity, I open that drawer and read about those i miss, To remember why they left and how i shouldnot be missing them now. I read about the breaks and scars that got me here, So whenever i think my life would stop after someone leaves, My writings remind me of all the people i had to let go, And how i learnt about new ways to breathe on my own. But then i met you, And the words that have been the blanket that keeps me warm in winter, Changed to be my abstract nakedness in the middle of a snow storm, And only your arms can cover me. I am naked. I am cold and i can’t write a word, That diary i bought when i first know you, Still brand new, i don’t have the guts to let any parts of you out of me. I wake up in the middle of night, With my bones straining under the pain, Of all the poems that are aching to be written for you. How can you fill me up with all these words, Yet leave me so speechless? My fingers are all numb and tingly, Since the first day they traced the scars of the cuts, You used to do in places people can’t see, in the bathroom you locked yourself in, when your parents used to fight, So you can go out the next day wearing the fake ‘i’m fine’ smile. My hands are all shaky, Since the day you left a kiss in my left palm, And now i can only write poems, With my tongue, on the places of your body you least love. I wish i can tell you how i am still caught up in that moment, When you left all your being in a love bite on my neck, That i still press on from time to time, So the bruise would tell me it was real and it did really happen. I wish i can tell you, that, i have been a stranger since forever, And your bed is the only place i can call home. I wish i can tell you how you taught me to love something, That i can’t call mine, And reminded me how it feels like, To fear losing something i don’t even have. I wish i can tell you that in that dark room, I kissed you with my eyes open, So i can keep every moment of it, Engraved in all my senses, And the way you glowed, made it very easy. I wish i can tell you, how is, Touching you again, Is the only thing i am looking for now, And that i left my safety, Somewhere behind your ears, And i am scared shitless now. I wish i can tell you a lot of things, But my tongue can only move freely, In the corners of your mouth, So please, Have mercy on me, And tell me, what a girl that is entirely made of verbs and nouns,can do in presence of someone like you, who strips me off my entire being with half a smile?

The day i met you,
 I threw away my dream catcher,
Because i knew right then, 
That you are the only dream,
I wanted to come true.

An apology I really meant but won't make a difference

I am sorry that I am a person who loses interest & drifts away because of a word you said unintentionally in the middle of the conversation. 

I am sorry I always become passive and say nothing is wrong whenever i feel angry/mad/jealous or anything that will make me look vulnerable. 

I am sorry I hate your friends and everyone who gets to deal with you on a daily basis and I can’t. 

I am sorry I don’t call as much I want to call or say I love you everytime I get so overwhelmed by how much you mean to me. 

I am sorry I require too much effort and sometimes I get so hard to deal with. I am sorry that loving me is a full time job that leaves you drained most of the time. 

I am sorry I talk about nonsense with you and tweet or blog whatever the fuck I am feeling. 

I am sorry I am making you pay for the people who came before you and turned me into this worst version of me. 

I am sorry I don’t know how to say what I feel anymore but it is mostly because I don’t know how I am feeling most of the time. 

I am sorry I am always sad, distant and silent with no apparent reason. I am sorry for my double standards and blaming you for things I do myself, and mostly sorry when you say nothing and compromise for my sake. 

I am sorry for always being sorry and nothing ever changes. 

I am sorry I am not there as much as you want me to be. 

I am sorry for not being there even when I am there. 

I am sorry I always ask for more even when I know you have already tore yourself open for me. 

I am sorry I always made you feel like something is missing, when it was me who was missing all along. 

I am sorry I try to walk away every now and then because I promised myself long ago to never want anything as much as I want you, now. 

I am sorry my strength is all weakness that is breaking the both us. 

I am sorry that I don’t know if it will ever get better. 

I am sorry I am beyond repair. 

I am sorry you ended up with someone who can go from extreme happiness to crying on the bathroom floor in a blink of an eye. 

I am sorry I am too selfish to let you go so you can be with someone who can actually give you a funcional relationship. 

I am sorry I am both your dream and your nightmare. 

I am sorry I sometimes make you feel like it’s your fault or like you are not trying hard enough. You have been always perfect. It’s me. 

I am sorry for everytime I said leave me alone when my insides where screaming hug me, hug me, hug me. 

I am sorry I have made a home of you when leaving was always on my mind. 

I am sorry I am constantly losing parts of me to the nothingness that is eating me alive. 

I am sorry I am not stronger than this. 

I am sorry that I am 70% apathy not water. 

I am sorry I came into your life and messed it up this way for few moments of temporary happiness. 

And I am finally sorry, in advance, for having to walk away from your life and leave you with some memories of temporary happiness. I loved, love and will always love you, but here I am repeating the last words I tasted on my ex lovers’ lips before he walked away from me; Love is never enough.

دردشة مع الرب

أنا خائفة. أنا أرتعد. أشعر بي و أنا أتلاشى أمامي. أنا باهتة ككلمة كتبها طفل في كراسته و حاول أن يمسحها بممحاة رديئة. مرت ساعة كاملة و أنا أجلس أمام صفحة بيضاء عاجزة أن أخط فيها سطراً واحداً, فبعد أن تصالحت مع فقداني لقدرتي على قول ما أشعر به و أكتفيت بالكتابة عنه, أصبحت عاجزة حتى عن الكتابة أو ربما صرت عاجزة عن الشعور بشكل عام, فمصطلحاتي بخير و لكن مشاعري صدئة.
أنا مشوشة يا رب. أنا تعبة و لم تعد اللعبة مسلية تماماً, حسناً, أنا أستسلم, لقد دفعتني و سقطت على وجهي ألف مرة, و لألف مرة قمت, مسحت وجهي من أثار الأقدام التي دعست عليه و هي تتركني و ترحل و رسمت ابتسامة عريضة على وجهي و فتحت صدري بكل رحابة لعابرين جدد, فقط لأدرك أنهم, أيضاً, مجرد عابرون.
أنا زهقت يا رب, و مش قادرة أفكر في كلام أكتبه. أنت فاهم و عارف. الرُكب أتبرت من كتر الوقوع و راحة الإيدين مبقاش فيها حتة مش مجروحة من كتر ما بمسك في حاجات مش ليا, مبقاش فاضل حاجة تاخدها مني بعد ما خدتنى أنا مني, بلف و أرجعلك و مش فاهمة برضه أنا مطلوب مني ايه, خلاص كده يعني؟ مش هبقى مبسوطة أبداً تاني؟ يعني حتى الفرح المؤقت بقى كتير؟ ليه أنا؟ بيتهيألي أنت عارف أنا بقيت عاملة إزاي. السكات بقى أكتر من الكلام و اللي بمسحه لسه أكتر من اللي بكتبه, مش عارفة أقول, بفتح بقى و مفيش حاجة بتطلع, ببقى زعلانة و مفيش دموع بتنزل, ببقى عايزة أفضل و بمشي من نفسي. أنا تعبت مني و من الحاجات الناقصة اللي بتبوظ عليا أي فرحة, عارفة إني يمكن محظوظة أكتر من ناس كتير و كل الكلام ده, بس أنا برضه مش مبسوطة. معرفش, الرحمة من عندك بقى.

The word No has always been Sweeter than the word Yes

I refuse to be as they want me to be. I refuse to get married because they think there is a time frame for that and I might miss it. I refuse to stay at home just because it is raining and they think it is crazy to dance in the rain. I refuse to stop jumping head first in people who will most probably break my heart because this is what I want. I’d pick passion to safety anytime of the day. I will keep on setting fire to my soul that soon turns ice cold because of those who didn’t know how to make it grow. I will always believe in the kindness of strangers no matter how many times they let me down. I will keep on hugging the people I love even if you keep on telling me that it is not okay. I will hold their hands and pat on their backs and kiss them with lips that drips with high hopes that most probably will be broken. I will smile at specially those who frown. I will call my exes and say I miss them whenever i feel like I do, because this is the way I feel. I will decide on something and go for the exact opposite the very next day because I have every right to mess my life up. Because it is okay. I will learn all the rights and do all the wrongs. Kiss the stupid selfish boys and love the pretty messed up girls. I will always keep on thinking that vulnerable is the new sexy, and that people who wear their scars with their head high are the cutest. I will keep on loving God the way I see it not the way you read it in your books. I will reach out for the stars to make a beautiful tiara for every sad girl and grab the moon for every brokenhearted boy.
I am, I am, I am. I am, I am, I am you people. you might think I am crazy, but I am free. I am fucking free from all your thoughts\judgements\traditions and shoulds. I am my own, only my own, and I will still love you even if you judge me thinking you are some sort a tiny god roaming the earth, and it’s okay, because this is how you see your god, a god who only judge. But in my eyes; God is love. God is acceptance. God is peace. I am love. I am acceptance. I am peace.

أقترح أن نبقى سعداء

على قدر خوائي الذي يثقلني, أنا ممتلئة. أنا ممتلئة بالماضي و الحاضر و الآت. فراغي ملىء بتفاصيل تركها العابرون و خفتي مثقلة بغيابهم و غيابي الشخصي, و هذا ليس بجديد عليّ, أن أكون الشيء و عكسه, حقاً ليس بجديد عليّ.

1.

ذكرى حب طفولي خطرت على بالي من دون أن أستدعيها. كان أول شخص أستطيع أن أتجرأ و أقول أنه “بتاعي” أو ” حبيبي” و إن كنت أتخيل أن هذا بالفعل حُب حقيقي.و بالرغم من إنني حين أحاول أن أذكر من أحببتهم حقاً, إسمه لا يندرج في تلك القائمة, حين تسأله هو, إسمي هو فقط في قائمته بالرغم من إنه على وشك الزواج من آخرى.

كنا صغار. أطفال. خمسة أو ست عشر عاماً على الأكثر. أتذكر حين قررنا أن نتقابل في موعد, لم نعرف إلى أين نذهب, فظللنا نمشي, و نمشي و نمشي من دون أي وجهة, كلانا يحمل زجاجة مياه و نتحدث عن كل شيء, نخطط لمستقبلنا الذي ظللنا في ذلك الوقت أنه شيء نستطيع أن نتحكم به, أتذكر تحديداً أننا تحدثنا عن المبلغ الذي يحمله في محفظته و كان حوالي ثلاثون جنيهاً, و كنت أحمل أنا مثلهم في حقيبة يدي. أستمررنا بالمشي جنباً إلى جنب, لم يتجرأ حتى على أن يمد يده و يمسك بيدي سوى عند عبورنا إحدى الشوارع. سيظل هذا الولد يمثل لي اللون الأخضر في حياتي طالما حييت, كان نقي, نقي بشكل مبالغ فيه, و لا زال, بشكل أو بآخر, أنا متأكدة أنه لا زال قلبه يطرح قلوب بيضاء و حضوره هواءه عليل برائحة الشتاء. لا أعلم لم تذكرت ذلك الموقف بالتحديد, و لكنني في المرتان التان تثني لنا الخروج فيهن في موعد, أصبحنا نمشي هكذا على غير هدى, نتوه سوياً, من دون أي خوف, و حين نقرر أنه حان وقت الرحيل, كنا نتوجه لأقرب مترو و يعود كل منا إلى بيته. حين وضعنا الزمن صدفة أمام بعضنا قبل شهور قليلة, اي بعد مرور حوالي ثمان أو تسع أعوام, قال لي أنه على أتم إستعداد أن يدفع عمره بأكمله في مقابل يوم من هذه الأيام, قبل أن يمسحني نهائياً من كل مواقع التواصل و كل برامج الشات و الذي كنت أتوقعه أن يحدث لأنه مع آخرى الآن. لم أحزن حين أختفى من دون تبرير و خصوصاً بعد كلماته تلك, بالعكس, أبتسمت و قبلت شاشة هاتفي الخالية منه بعيناي و أنا أتمنى له الخير بوسع قلبي, و أتمنى في سري أن يضعني القدر أمامه بعد تسع سنوات آخرى, و هو أب حنون و زوج صالح, لأخرى, ليست مثلي, آخرى سيكون معها في أمان, آخرى لن يستيقظ يوماً ليجدها حزمت أمتعتها و رحلت و تركت له مذكرة تقول ” أسفة, لقد حاولت فعلاً” و هي تعرف أنها لم تحاول بالقدر الكافي الذي يستحقه أوي. فلتكن بخير, أينما كنت, أيها الأخضر.

2.

الحُب .. الحُب كله\ ع الحُب مش عارفة أقوله\ أقوله إني بحبه\ في الحٌب أنا طالبة قُربه

كانت تلك الصدفة المفتعلة التي يفتعلها كل صباح أثناء محادثتا الهاتفية التي تدور بيننا كل يوم, في اللحظة التي أقول فيها ألو يومياً تكون تلك الأغنية تلعب على مسجل سيارته. أبتسم في صمت. و يقول هو متقمصاً دور عبده العبيط ” ايه ده, خدتي بالك يا دودو أنه دايماً و إحنا بنتكلم الأغنية دي تشتغل؟” أرد قائلة, هي إشارة من الرب لأني أحبها, يستهزأ هو بي لذكري الرب كأي مٌلحد عربي أصيل و نتابع حديثنا عن اللا و الأي شيء ككل صباح. أحب الصدف المفتعلة. الصدق البشرية التي لا دخل للقدر فيها. فصدف القدر هي صدف أوتوماتيك, لا تحتاج إلى أي مجهود بشري, و لكن أن يبذل أحدهم مجهود ليفاجئني أو يلفت نظري, هي صُدفي المفضلة.

ذكرت لي صديقة مشتركة بيننا بأنه لا يجب أن أنخدع بإهتمامه هذا, فهو يعامل الجميع بهذه الطريقة, و إن كان يبدي إهتماماً حقيقاً بكِ كان سيأتي عند بيتك بسيارته التي أبتاعها له أهله, و التي نادراً ما يستخدمها سوى للفت إنتباه البنات, فهو يستعمل المواصلات العامة في الغالب, و حين يأتي بسيارته تعرفين بسهولة أن هناك فتاة جديدة, و طالما لم يلعب معك حيلة السيارة الفخمة إذاً فهو غير مهتم أو فقط يضيع وقت.

لم أرد عليها لأنني من دون أي شيء أعلم تماماً أنه غير مهتم جدياً, هو مهتم و لكن ليس “مهتم” و أنا الأخرى كذلك, فأنا أعلم تماماً أنه يملأ فراغه بي, و هذا ليس بالشيء اللطيف, و لكن, حبيبي, صاحب الصدف المفتعلة, أوقعه القدر معي أنا, فلغبائه, يحاول المسكين أن يملأ فراغه بي أنا, فكيف يا أبله تملأ فراغ بكيان عبارة عن فراغ, أستمتع بعلاقاتي مع هؤلاء الأشخاص الغير لطفاء, أو بمعنى أصح, من يستغلون مشاعر غيرهم لتعويض نقص ما في حياتهم أو ملأ فراغ ما يؤرقهم, فمعهم أستطيع أن أمارس تناقضاتي الفكرية بكل راحة ولا أكترث بأي أذى عرضي ممكن أن أصيبهم به, فهم يستحقونه أو على الأقل, ليسوا ملائكة و هالاتهم مدنسة بأية حال, و ما لاحظته في أغلبهم, أنهم دائماً يعيشون دور الصالحون بكل إتقان, و يستنكرون أي مكروه يحدث لهم. لا يهم. كانت ذكرى السيارة و أغنية ريما خشيش هى ما قصدت التحدث عنه, و إن كنتم تتسألون عما حدث بيني و بينه, كنا سوياً في إحدى الأيام, و كأنما مر شخص خلع عنه حجاب أو ستارة ما, فرأيت كل قبحه دفعة واحدة, رأيته شخص فارغ, أناني, يستغل قلب لطيف فطلبت منه أن تكون هذه آخر مقابلة بيننا و ألا يحاول أن يكلمني على الأقل لمدة, أستغرب و صُدم, و بالفعل لم يحاول أن يكلمني و لم أحاول أنا أن أكلمه, ولا أذكر له أو منه مواقف كثيرة بالرغم من أنه حدث بيننا الكثير, و لكنه لم يترك لي الكثير منه, حيث أنه كان دائماً ما يأخذ فقط, و قد قرأت في مكان ما, أنه إن كان عطائك لشخص ما يتركك فارغ مرهق, فأعلم أنك تعطي الشخص الخاطيء. و هو من إحدى الشخصيات الخاطئة التي بددت عليها الكثير من طاقتي, من باب التبديد و ليس إلا التبديد.

3.

أعلم الآن أن فراغي مبطن بالذكريات, بالأشخاص, بالراحلون و الباقون, بالحاضرين الغائبين و الغائبين الحاضرين. أنا لست خالية تماماً, أنا مليئة بهم و بي, و سر معاناتي الدائمة هو إني طالما ما حاولت أن أتخلص منهم أو أتجاهل وجودهم, و حين نجحت في هذا, تخلصت من أجزائي أ،ا التي طمسها وجودهم, فبتُ ناقصة و ضعيفة. و الشخصيتان التي تحدثت عنهم ليسوا سوى شخصيتان ثانويتان في حياتي و إن كانوا أقل من ثانويتان حتى, ولكنهم جزء مني على الرغم من ذلك, سواء الأول الذي تخليت عن ذكراه بكامل رضائي أو الثاني الذي أتجاهل كل ما تركه لي أو أخذه مني, تصرفي مع الإثنان كان قمة الغباء, فأنا فتاة التفاصيل الصغيرة, أنا التي تتذكر المبلغ الذي كان في محفظة صديقها الأول و الأغنية التي كانت تلعب في سيارة شخص كان وجوده غير معرف في حياتي, تجاهلي و رفضي لذكرياتهم و ذكريات غيرهم أفقدني ملامحي, فأنا أوزع قطع مني بإستمرار على هذا و ذلك, و أفتح قلبي لهذا  روحي لهذه و عيني لتلك, فكلما كنت أحاول أن أرسم حدود تواجد البشر في حياتي, كلما حاولت أن أثبت أن أنا فقط أملكني كلما فتحت أبواب روحي لإستقبال عابرون جدد, فليأخذ هذا جسدي و تسكن هذه قلبي و يمتص هؤلاء ما تبقى من روحي مني و يتركوني من دون أي شيء, أهكذا يصل البشر إلى الخفة الغير محتملة؟ تجاهلني كونديرا و لم يرد لبلاهتي و سذاجة سؤالي, فأي شخص يأخذ أي جزء يترك قطعة من فراغه أثقل مما أخذ. الفراغ ثقيل. ثقيل جداً, و لكن لا بأس. ليس هناك ثقل مطلق أو خفة مطلقة, من يدعى الخفة و الذي يحافظ على مسافات بين الناس و بينه و يصر على أن يذكرهم بإن وجوده مؤقت هو أثقل الناس على القلب, من يقترب ثم يبتعد هو ثقيل و مرهق, أقول لهؤلاء و لنفسي, لا تقترب إن كنت لا تنوي البقاء, بالقلب ما يكفي من الحنين. لن أبحث عن الخفة أو الثقل بعد الآن, سأحتضن كلاهما, سأفتح راحتا يداي و أمدهما, و أتبع الحُب أينما كان, كما تتبع زهرة عباد الشمس, الشمس.

4.

أقترح أن نبقى سعداء

بس انت, انت و بس

تطاردني ذكريات أشخاص رحلوا عني و أشخاص رحلت عنهم
بنت جميلة أكلت روحها بنت أخرى ترتدي عباءة الصمت بشكل دائم
أكتب الكلمات التي أخاف أن أدمر حميمتها إن قلتها
عناق ثم إنعتاق
الجمال المستتر في كل رحيل
أتمتم قصائد نزار قباني بشفائف مرتبكة على رقبتك و أنتِ غافية بجانبي
فراغ يتوسع بشكل مبالغ فيه فلا يترك أي مساحة للتنفس
البنات الجميلات و الرجال الضعفاء أمام جمالهن
حرية التخلي عن الفضيلة و السقوط في هوة اللا شيء
أفتقدك و لكني لا أقولها حتى لا تُفسد جمال ما أشعر بـ ردٌ بارد
الحنين يأكل في جلد يحن إلى لمسة حُب
شهيق لا يتبعه زفير
أذكر حالي بأنه لا بأس أن أنهزم قليلاً
يمتزج الشك باليقين و تختفي الحقائق
أتمسك بالحُب و إيماني بقدرته على إنقاذ البشرية
الجمال المتجلي في البقاء و العودة بعد كل رحيل
الطريقة التي تبحث بها يدك عن يدي كلما سنحت لك الفرصة
زجاجة نبيذ و عطر تزيد حرارة جسدك من حدة رائحته
روج أحمر
أ ح ب ك
صوت كاظم الساهر و هو يغنّي;
و ظلّي قربي غنيلي\ فأنا من بدء التكوين\ أبحث عن وطن لجبيني\ عن حضن إمرأة يأخذني\ لحدود الشمس و يرميني

لكن بيصير ما في غيرو

أيامي تطول و تختفي المعاني منها

أقضي معظم أوقاتي بداخل عقلي

أدمرني و أتغذي على ما تبقى مني

أدفع الناس بعيداً

أمتنع عن تناول الطعام بالأيام

أدخن سجائر كثيرة كل ليلة لأستيقظ عاجزة عن التنفس كل صباح

لا أكترث

لا أهتم لأحد و لأي شيء,

ربما بنفسي فقط في بعض الأحيان

أنا وحيدة..

.

Lover,

I am sorry I am putting you through this again, but the silence is calling out for me. I am tired, exhausted and drained most of the time. I am sorry but I am unable of trying anymore. I just want to let go. I am not strong enough to hold on anymore. My bones are breaking under the heaviness of my being. I tried for you. I tried and tried and tried but I was never good enough and I will never be. I am vulnerable and weak, and I will only hold you back. Let me drown. Let me suffocate. My lungs are already filled with water and I am choking on the bubbles of your love. I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want them anymore. I don’t want me anymore. I want to disappear. I want the silence and the quietness of death. I don’t want to be afraid ever again. I don’t want to shiver whenever your arms aren’t around me. I don’t want to bite my tongue and chew on all the words I left unsaid. I want to be free. Let me be, or to be specific, Let me not be.
Yours,
D.

To my Future Daughter or my Current Self.

I am a woman,
That means I was taught shame before the alphabet.
I was told to hush more than I was allowed to speak up,
And to cover myself up and hide everytime I get a chance to rise and shine.
I remember my parents trying so hard to keep the little girl inside of me from being a woman who has her own feelings, thoughts and wants.
The first time I bled, I remember my mother telling me how I should act from now on like god dictated his ten commandments,
Girls like you should not laugh loud,
Girls like you should not speak up,
Girls like you should not look boys straight in the eye,
Girls like you should wait for her prince charming to come along and make a wife and a mom out of her.
But she forgot to tell me that girls like me have rights,
Girls like me are human beings,
Girls like me can change the world,
Girls like me are not baby makers, They create life in between their thighs,
Girls like me should not wait for some guy to come a long and make her a princess, I am born royal, I am a queen, I am life itself.
If I ever had a daughter I will teach her how to say No before yes,
How to feel beautiful without waiting for validation from some horny guy who doesn’t see beyond her skin,
How to want and how to walk away when things are not good enough for her,
How to feel whole and to not look for her missing pieces in someone else,
I will tell her what my mother didn’t tell me,
I will tell her that some boys will take pieces of her and run,
And leave her skin tainted with their lustful finger prints,
That some boys will look directly at her and only see a pair of boobs instead of seeing her giving heart,
And when they reach out to touch her, they won’t be reaching for her inner beauty,
But afterall, I will assure her that it is okay,
O
K
A
Y
it’s okay to fall in love with the wrong guys, people only learn by making mistakes,
it’s okay to lose some pieces to them, because the pieces she will get back will be better and stronger,
it’s okay to get her heart broken, and to love and lose, the heart is a muscle that needs training so it gets ready to love the right person with all the strength in her,
I will teach her how not to settle down for mediocre love, tasteless kisses and boring sex but always search for passion.
it’s okay to leave when you don’t find what you want.
Future daughter,
Here is a gentle reminder you can read over and over again whenever you are crying your heart over some guy,
It’s okay to cry.
It’s okay to lose.
It’s okay to get your heart broken.
Forgive him and forgive yourself and let go.
Never lose your self respect or hang around people who make you think less of yourself.
Fall in love with your flaws. Love your thick thighs, your skinny hands, your stretch marks and your small boobs.
You are not supposed to match any masturbating little boy fantasy,
You are more than just a body.
You are more than just a wife.
You are more than just a mom.
You are not someone’s daughter, or someone’s wife.
You are you.
Don’t let them define you by anything else.

Your Asshole kind of Lover

You ask if that’s blood that runs in my veins or ice cold poison,
I do not answer.
If you really knew me you would have known that nothing in me “runs”, I don’t have the energy for things like that.
My blood flows apathetically here and there, just because it has to.
You dedicated your entire time for things like “saving me” and “making me happy”, when all I wanted was for you to be there.
I never wanted you to light up my darkness, I simply wanted you to embrace it,
I never asked for you to pour yourself into my emptiness, for all I wished was for you to hold my hand and run with me across its vastness.
What’s the point of giving things to a person who doesn’t know how to receive?
Why do you keep trying to glue my pieces back together, then blame me when my shatters cut your lovely hands?
Someone should have taught you that when you see a beautifully broken piece of glass, you simply admire it from a distance,
But your butterfly shaped heart kept drawing you towards the faint flames of my burned ashes,
I am tired, love. so tired, and you keep pushing for a potential that I used to have but not anymore,
I wish you could just sit down silently for a moment and hold my hand without trying to mention that I am doing better,or that I am getting there,
What if I don’t want to do better, or even get there, I just want to sit still, I just wanted to sit still, with you.
But people like you can’t rest if they are not making the world a better place by their little small acts of kindness here and there,
And I am too proud to accept charity.
Matter of fact honey, I think your numerous attempts to save me or save the world are pathetic, yes, I am an asshole like that,
I think you are as empty as I am, but the difference between me and you, is that you can’t handle the silence echoing through your hollowness, so you always feel like you gotta carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders to keep you company.
You kiss me softly, I bite your lips,
you caress my skin, I bruise the initials of my former lovers down your spine,
You scream and call me “An egotistical piece of shit”,
I reply calmly and say Maybe I am,
You look at me, all teary and pathetic mumbling that I am hopeless and that you tried,
You storm out while I yell,
"Keep fighting your losing battles, fool;
If you didn’t know what happened to Jesus himself when he tried to save humanity,
Well, he died.”
You slam the door leaving my life forever,
while I whisper “And I want you around as long as possible.

Your Love is not a Sin

Did I mention that loving you is like coming home after years of wandering around?

After years of disappointments, heartbreaks and misfortune,
I finally felt like I can belong,
They say our love is a sin, but how come I only feel pure when I am in your presence?
How can I explain to them that collapsing in your arms is as holy as breaking down in a church or a mosque?
That you are not a sin, you are more of a prayer mumbled out of a saint’s lips at dawn,
A mantra chanted by a monk over and over again,
That your love is the Nirvana,
They won’t understand that I feel closer to god when you hold me tight, or how he spoke to me through the beats of your heart,
He bestowed his forgiveness upon me the moment I stripped naked and covered myself with your skin,
You whitened all the black that was eating me from within,
filled my emptiness by simply being there.
You have rearranged my atoms, you did something to me, now my DNA contains molecules of HA PP Y,
I was dead, broken into irrepairable pieces, barely breathing,
You came along,
sat down,
and glued me back together,
with patience and acceptance,
Now I am a whole new me,
Who is capable of giving love and recieving it back,
Thanks to you and your unconditional infinite love,
You are a Saviour.
You are my Saviour.
You brought my heart back to life,
You made me see colours again,
And I am sure your lips taste like wine,
How can they deny that this love is an act of god?
So, lover;
Stay holy,
Stay Divine,
And keep performing your miracles on that little heart of mine.

How can I write about anything else?

I cant believe you are still wondering why do I only write about you,
about us,
Well,
Lately, You are all that my heart has been beating about,
Lubs dubs in the shape of poems and haikus,
Beautiful rhymes flowing through my veins,
And for the first time my sweat doesn’t smell of loneliness and passive agression.
I think you have replaced all the iron in my blood cells with whatever kind element you are made of,
it’s the only justification why there is not a single atom of hard or rough left in me,
I am now softer than ever.
You taught me how being soft is the only way a person can avoid being broken,
You can’t break what is not even solid, you said,
then poured yourself in my hollowness,
and I finally realized how emptiness can hold a person down,
You set me free,
from me.
You were magic,
when I was all skulls and vodo.
You were faith,
when I couldn’t find my way.
You were salvation,
When I finally admitted I needed to be saved.
All I did before you come along was to scream and howl like Thunder,
You smiled at me, and BAAM, I discovered how much I was missing,
You weren’t just someone who introduced some light to my darkness,
I was a deserted sand castle on some far away beach, you hit me, and now I am a precious crystal.
You were Lightening.
You are lightening,
and I will follow you wherever you go like the perfect howl of Thunder does.
You will light up skies, and I will scream of love and admiration at the miracle of you.
We kiss, the sky opens and rain falls, shamefully, in front of how beautiful you are.
Together we rocked worlds.
So for the love of God, the love of You, and everything that is holy,
How can I write about anything else?

Things my mother should have told me

My heart has never known the taste of grace,
it pumps restlessness instead of blood through my viens.
I was never a girl who looks for her own peace of mind,
but always searched for wars in every soul I came across,
Craving only the kisses of lost boys with dead eyes,
swearing there is some hidden pot of goodness in them,
and always trying to fix what’s beyond repair.
I have lost every war I have entered willingly,
And came out with permenant damage.
Didn’t know that the only glue that can hold their broken pieces together was my own blood,
The only thing that can fill their emptiness was my entire being,
And even if I knew, I would still have bled myself dry.
I am hopeless like that.
My mother should have warned me about this kind of boys,
Boys who are like gasoline to the fire I carry within,
Whose touches never give me butterflies, but feels like grenades in my belly.
Boys I can’t say their names without stuttering,
Boys who push me to walls, whose kisses leave bruises that time just can’t wipe away,
Boys who are incapable of giving or recieving,
Whose eyes don’t sparkle,
Boys who feed my appetite for self destruction,
Who consume me,
then turn me,
into,
a sad little girl,
with dead eyes,
and a lost soul.
My mother should have told me,
That giving without recieving is not unconditional love. It’s suicide,
That I shouldn’t be with people who dim my light and push me to my darkest places,
That I can’t help people who don’t want to help themselves,
And that the first person I should always try to save,
is,
Me.

Memoirs of a heart that is entirely made of Water

I have always been an angry lover.
Never learned how to love calmly like a river,
and let my feelings flow patiently and constantly.
My love has always been overwhelming,
obssessive, and sometimes drowning.
I am stupid like a waterfall,
I pour myself fully into the first person who gives me the slightest bit of attention,
I shower him with love, maybe too much love sometimes,
till he gets sick of the heaviness of my high expectations I throw on his shoulders,
and leaves,
or till I have nothing left to give,
and he also leaves.
I had also tried loving like tap water,
to only flow when I am asked to,
to take the shape of whatever container I am in,
have no opinion and only do as I am told,
with the name of love,
Till I realized that those who strip me of my being,
and who I am,
Those who want to control how or where I flow,
Who underestimate me because I look runny and helpless,
Who don’t know that,
With determination and steadiness I can eat and erode the rock that their hearts are made of.
Are definetely not worthy of my love.
My last love was a Sea,
it flactuated between me flowing gently and kissing his feet softly,
and carrying him to wonderlands on the stream of my passion,
And raging waves that can swallow an entire city,
push him against walls,
break his ribs, bite instead of kissing,
hurt instead of healing,
and drown instead of saving.
I was unpredictable like that.
And I loved it.
I have been trying too hard for long to tame my fickle heart,
to be gentle,
To be a river
like the one Manuel Bandeira described in his poem,
That flows,
silent through the night,
not fearing the darkness and
reflecting any stars high in the sky,
Till I realized that it was not meant to be, Girls like me were never meant to be silent,
I was way more than just a river, a sea or even a waterfall,
My presence was too much to be contained in a single word,
I was the sip of water that can save a life,
but also the storm that can take a hundred lives.
I am the rain,
The Seas,
The Oceans,
and all the rivers combined.
I am a drop of water,
I am water,
70% of this universe,
what is holding it together,
I am the origin of every origin,
I am a woman,
I create life,
I am life,
I belong to no man and no city,
I will take whatever shape I want,
And flow wherever I please,
goddamit.