Draft hits my face
I grunt and move forward
It’s cold and gray
Wet air
I crave peace
Drops aren’t dripping
No rest for the weary
***
It’s almost May
I’m still cold
Cold reaches body
I am unable to
Protect myself
Even with clothes on
A metaphor for life
***
The poem of Nothing
Made out of stale words
Anger bores me
I am angry to be angry
Entertaining this
Is boring
To me
Many things interrupt me
I don’t give it space
I suppress
Without them
I am happy
Many things to eliminate
Tasks of adulthood
Spinning like a revolving sushi bar
Going back in circles
Until they are completed
I am angry to coexist
With my pending tasks
Stale words tell
A story of Nothing
***
Anger cleaves through my internal organs
Sharp and precise
Deadly strokes
I feel helpless against it
I stand still
Do not succumb
***
There are no friends around
I’m so sad
Memories of wrongdoings
To me and by me
Wander in my mind
I disappeared
How would I articulate the hell I live
No one can help me
But if for a split second
Someone could hold my hand
Accept me
It would lighten my burden
***
Teddybears in my living room
Memories of a woman diva
Makeup rots in beautiful containers
No one is looking
Forgotten memory
Can a Woman and a Mother be harmonious
Ahead, desire’s flames viewed from a distance
Looking backwards will result in becoming a pillar of salt
God doesn’t want me to witness his dirty work
My job is to keep loving and believing
The good wins
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