My body is made of veins that fight every second to not burst of its bloody tears. 

Halves of the same Soul

From half of me pours half of you, 

It's the touching of souls 

that it's said to be love, 

Even when you thought you had no soul anymore. 

The messy worlds inside us

cannot contain the strenght of our soul. 

It's the sky and the ocean that are halves of the same blue world. 

Mirror, mirror, can you see?

The confirmation that gladly everyone is better without you;

The explanation that you rather know they're happy;

The comprehension of how finite every gaze is;

The fascination with every facial line of every person you've seen;

The extension of your heart being so infinite that you still love everyone you've ever loved. 

Can you find, in the mirror, me?

They saw me as contaminated 

Tarnished by blood and soul

Dipped in tragic inconvenient woes

Too sensitive and too honest

Too candid and too earnest 

Nobody likes wounded people

Thrown into mud by a stormy life

Everyone wants to forget sadness 

And be with the ones who smile

Though the distraught and downtrodden 

are the ones who are torn and abandoned 

And who definitely need support 

Everyone just cuts them off

Like if they had a contagious disease 

They can't stand a truly open heart

Because they're all emotionally rotten

And they're unable to just love and care

Like it's the only thing that matters

"There are many ways of dying. The worst of them is to continue living." - in 'This must be the place'

Bad blood and a broken heart 

assured she could never have happiness 

Happiness is made of rainbow memories and then with time one of three things might happen: they turn grey, or black, or white.

What am I doing? Just writing words to fit the feelings that need to get expressed.

• she had a heart with a hole of the size of texas and a mind packed like the streets on rush 

hour

08.06.2017

Only a great poet knows that the word serenity goes with sad, and bliss with exquisite.
Do you think that no word stands alone and all words need other words? And that there's a true democracy between words for they all mingle, from the more royal to the more common?
Do you also insist that words are bound to their meaning?
Well, I'm not into all that: I believe a word stands for itself, no concept or meaning tied up into it. Once a neologist, always a neologist.