Don’t want to be here anymore!

heart-3064544_960_720Still, here I am, knocking at his door, holding the broken pieces in the cup of my palms.

He takes his time, why wouldn’t he? A million years of similar stories have made him old, grumpy and a bit snappish. He’s entitled this time, though.

“You, again?” he asks, putting the black framed glasses on, as I nod and sigh.

“Okay, what is it this time?” and I show him the broken pieces, just to see him glaring at me.

“First time I understood. You were young and stupid, so you just played with it, dropped it and…crack! You broke it in two!

Then you gave it to someone…hmmm…he said he’ll fix it and the idiot smashed it to the floor! Remember?”

He surely sees the rain in my eyes, I surely want him to stop reminding me things that hurt so deep…but I guess it’s part of my reason for being here. He will make sure I listen the whole story, I know he will!

“Then some other people…wait, you called them how?…Aha, friends was the word. They poisoned it with venomous words and then, when you were not looking (you never pay attention, do you?) they stabbed it!

And someone stumped on it!

I told you not to show it, they will break it just for fun, but noooo…You, stubborn!

Let’s not forget your last performance: you locked it into a dark and cold place, then (trying to fool destiny) you began this crazy race against death and demons and hell itself! 

Well, guess who almost died?” 

He’s looking at the broken pieces: “Your heart

Can you fix it? I whisper hopelessly. Can you make it whole again? And I promise…

He turns his back.


“Don’t. Don’t plead. It’s just too broken. Take it back, I cannot fix the mess you created!”

But I can’t accept fate, never could, never will! So I just throw it back to him, shouting like thousand thunders:

If you don’t fix it, then I don’t want it anymore! I will be…heartless.

He angrily stares at my tears-steamed face:

“You can’t be heartless, you fool! You are specially created to love. God only knows why! You -stubborn, complicated, foolish, childlike and wild- your love has some kind of meaning and purpose. And He wants you to love.”

He mutters some words only he can hear, then returns to me with a crown.

“You should wear it until you get better. It’s called ForgivenessWear it upon the broken pieces, they’ll stick together again. Just give it time. And be gentle while it’s so fragile. 

It will be strong…it will be beautiful, even broken.

It still is.

Your heart.



All credits for the photo to the talented Alicja from





The cruelest day of June


“Your lips must taste like cherries, so wild and yet so sweet,

I would caress them softly like they’re my precious treat,

And in this dance of passion, my heart would skip a beat…

Only one kiss, that’s all I ask!

Take off that mask…”


He pleaded with his love, the girl with eyes like fire,

Her beauty was his curse – from distance to admire,

Now deeper than the ocean was his repressed desire!

So tender and so frail,

Behind the veil.


Oh, if you really love me, please, never ask again!

Don’t make me feel this sadness, don’t take me through this pain!

You’ll bring the storm inside me, I’ll cry with acid rain!

Just stay away, stay far!

I wear a hidden scar.


He smiled and kissed her fingers, their perfume to inhale.

“I swear, my darling sweetheart, I’ll never gonna fail!

My bride you’ll be for ever and love shall now prevail!

Your soul I will embrace…

Show me your face!


With trembling hands, denying the doubt inside her heart,

The mask that was so precious, now she just tore apart.

Frail girl, so sweet…her bravery was like the finest art.

At him she looked above.

Hoping for love.


“My goodness, what I’m seeing is a monstrosity!

How could I ever love such an atrocity!

Your scar is horrifying, an abnormality!

You want to hear the true?

I am afraid of you!”


That’s what he said while leaving her bleeding heart to die

No arms to hold the pieces, no acid tears to cry,

No strength to stop the darkness, not even wings to fly!

Just salty ocean deep

Her love to keep.


Her ghostly face still haunts him in nights with bloody moon

When memories are torture, he’s trapped in deepest gloom,

Repeating in slow motion the cruelest day of June…

For death he asks…

Behind his masks.


Be kind, be wise, be loving…when someone shows you their scars.

In loving memory of Diane.



All credits for the photo to the talented Joseph Berardi from









Fearless in this love…


I had a dream, the strangest you could ever think of… he said, gently taking my hand in his, smiling when my fingers met the warmth of his skin.

It was about hell…it opened its gates and black storms were released into the world. The trees were kneeling and worshiping its powers and a dark smoke covered the sky…he whispered, kissing my sleepy eyes, surprised by their peacefulness.

Winds were dancing around us, trying to break the invisible bond between your soul and mine, and I begged you…don’t let go of me, never let go…he sighted, pulling me closer, inhaling the perfume of my bare shoulders, trying to memorize its fragrance.

And you were fearless. 

But they were stronger, they broke the arms that held me and, slowly, your heart was breaking too…while mine was turning into ice…he gasped, planting butterfly kisses on my neck, surprised by the tremble in my body.

I saw you praying to an angry sky, I saw you pleading for love, I tried to say “I love you”…but demons twisted it into an insult. My tender touches, meant to sooth your bruises, hell turned them into violence…I saw you dying in my dream…he cried, pressing his head on my chest, listening to the beatings of my heart.

But you’re alive, more beautiful than ever, your eyes brighter than stars, rose petals on your lips, wild orchids on your skin…your heart creating music in my ear…You are here! You did not let go…you never will…You went to hell to find me and now we’re back home!

He turned aside, embracing my pillow. It was still wet from all the tears I cried over this darkness. The room is empty, there’s no one in my side of the bed. I’m still in hell, trying to find a love divine by nature…and he’s not here with me.

Where are you? Why are you never here when I’m lost in nightmares? 

Why can’t I wake up?


All credits for the photo to the talented Sam Williams from

Title inspired by

The one who gives

address-book-2246432_960_720Starry eyes, dreamy and bright, ready to sparkle, amazed by the mystery of life, they turn to oceans of blue, filled with hopeless regrets.

Playful fingers, burning with the restlessness of so many unwritten thoughts, they write for their unspoken love, secretly wishing to touch, to caress, to discover.

Big heart, full of kindness, always ready to build bridges, to break walls, to conquer the silence in an universe of broken promises and abandoned emotions.

Lonely soul, searching for its family among strangers, willing to embrace the fragility of human faith, as the last resort against darkness.

Small steps, dancing barefoot on the icy surface of a dream they cannot let go, because it’s the one thing that keep them going.

Unrecognized fire, strong and stubborn, created by your passion for truth and justice, essence of good, core of purity, extract of the beauty within.

It’s you…

So that you’d know you’re seen and loved and treasured,

my silly heart, grateful to the fullest, oblivious of your real name, created this childlike metaphor. The one who gives…because all of my dreams are born into your poems.


All credits for the photo to cromaconceptovisual from

Rather than vengeance

nature-3306655_960_720A letter for the moment after…when rain is gone, but there’s no rainbow, only tears… when walking on the rocky roads of memory seem painful and absurd.

A note for the loaded gun…when love becomes a moving target, and there’s no way to trust the heart-shaped clouds in a sky full of promises.

A user’s guide to self-made happiness…when starry eyes are met with ironic laughter and all the words sound lonely and pathetic in an icy world.

Instructions for a mask to cover fragile souls, so that they’ll live after the storm, after the love, after the darkness!

A guidance for the lost and broken…when kindness dies on dried-up lips and anger leads mad dances into nightmare.

That’s what I dreamed of writing, in my most vulnerable moments, when, looking in the mirror, I saw the hurt inside, screaming for vengeance! But then again, the light reflected in your eyes, awakened the wisdom of forgiveness.

Let it be sweetness, tenderness and care.

Let it be gentleness and courage.

Let butterfly kisses melt our deep, instinctive desire to harm each other!

We are not immortal…



Photo by cocoparisienne from

He’s out to get you!


You have a blog, like so many others in the blogosphere. Some days are good, some posts are brilliant, others just express your momentarily state of mind. What makes you special is not the writing itself, but the way you interact with other bloggers. Kind, honest, carrying, deep and sensitive, that’s how your friends-bloggers would describe you. You know you’re an empath.

What you don’t know is that you’re about to become a victim.

Phase one: The Hunting 

It all starts with one like. It wasn’t your best blog post, so the like came as a nice surprise. The little icon reveals a handsome guy, looking straight into the camera, with a seductive self-confidence. You go to his blog and like a few of his posts. An innocent exchange of  polite appreciation? Not this time…

He comments on your blog, praising your talent, your sensitivity, your loving heart that you’re so bravely revealing! Now you…the empath in you loves giving, sharing, helping. You’re not used to compliments, also, you’re a bit lonely…so you fall for the praising.

You and your new found admirer exchange beautiful messages, filled with love. You return all the compliments, giving more and more with each interaction. He’s such a wonderful man! Such a kindred soul, such a talented writer, no wonder he’s alone! No one is good enough for your super-guy. Except for you, lucky you!

And you open up to him, more and more…

Phase two: The Venom tastes like honey

There’s something different in his messages. You -completely addicted of his compliments and attention- cannot quite define it, but his voice changed. You read his words again and again, hoping you got it wrong, but no…your intuition is no liar!

Disguised in “friendly advises” or “innocent suggestions” or “well intended care”, he feeds you with bitter pills every time he can. It could be something like…

“oh dear, you should read more classic literature, it would improve your writing style…”

“you look so tired and sad in that photo, I really thought you’re older than me…”

“your accent is so sweet, I loved it, but it was so hard to understand what you said…”

It leaves you bitter, sad, insecure and angry, but…if you only try to tell him how you truly feel, all hell breaks loose. You’re paranoid, self-centered, you cannot accept constructive criticism! That’s why you’re alone in the first place! You’re crazy and you can’t make friends!

And oh, my favorite: you hurt his feeling! This wonderful guy is now hurt because you dared to stand to his abuse.

Phase three: Deadly Silence

He disappeared. No like, no comment. And you are torn apart between anger and guilt. A part of you still remembers the toxicity of your latest interactions. Another part actually blames itself, thinking that he’s probably right.

You feel guilty, ashamed, angry, depressed. You contemplate the possibility of never writing again! Or, maybe would it be better to beg him to come back to offer his precious feed-back? Your trust in people is deeply shattered and you’ll have trouble accepting that someone could genuinely appreciate you and your blog.


You are the victim of an narcissistic abuse. Targeted from phase one, he showered you in love, and you fell for this kind of attention. It’s only human. The sickening part is the satisfaction he gets from making you feel small, inadequate, untalented. Of course, he’ll do his best to make you feel it’s your fault.

The moment you wake up, he’s gone.


*Based on a real experience. Thank you, M


I wish I were your lover

I wish I were a poet, so that my metaphors could tame the beast inside you, the one who’s angrily biting from your loving heart, leaving you heartless…The poet died one more time tonight, along with all the beauty of its naked soul.

(I’m not a poet, my lyrics have no rhyme, my metaphors are trivial!)

I wish I were a writer, so that my stories could turn you into a fearless hero, so powerful and noble, the savior of our dying love…The writer threw another book into the fire, along with all its hopes for happy-endings.

(I’m not a writer, my stories lack a proper grammar, my intrigue is boring!)

I wish I were a scientist, so that my tears could have a healing power, sweetly melting this wall between us…The scientist turned its tears into acid, than drank this bitter cup of pain again and again.

(I’m not a scientist, my work has no value, no logic, no purpose at all!)

I wish I were a philosopher, so that my thoughts could be a meaningful answer to your endless search for more…The philosopher took an overdose of sarcasm, ending its searches with a self-proclaimed, self-sufficient truth.

(I’m not a philosopher, my thoughts are corny, pathetic and sugary sometimes!)

If Love is not what’s written in your eyes, what’s left for me to be?

I wish I were your lover, so that my body would be the sheet you need to write your poetry. You’d kiss my eyes when tears turn into acid, you’d promise thousands happy-endings! I’d be fulfillment, passion and perfection!

Then…I’d be yours.




My name on Your lips

I called your name out in the dark, did you see me? My voice was breaking, so was my heart, and my search for love remained unanswered! A shadow saw me, it called me “beautiful” and “sweet” and I believed. The path was wrong, but I went there anyway. (why wouldn’t you stop me, Lord?)

I screamed your name out in the storm, did you hear me? My desperate plead for tenderness was crushed by sarcasm, and I lost myself! A stranger met me, he called me “special” and “unique” and I believed. The choice was bad, but I took it regardless. (why do you never answer, God?)

I whispered your name out in the fields, have you recognize me? My faith, dissolved by uncertainties, was hanging by a dream and vanished in thin air! A man took my hand, he called me “his” and I believed. The chains were heavy and the pain unbearable, however, I gave myself willingly. (why are you never there, when I need you the most?!)

Then it was silence. In my heart and in my prayers. And veils were lifted as answers to my plead. So now I’m here, to carry His message out in the world.

Because you know it too, deep inside your soul…

Replaced by earthly illusions, His love remains unchanged. So is His voice, calling us, through darkness, storms and deceiving paradises. How could I see Him, if I was blind? How would I listen to His calling, if I kept screaming, crying, cursing and running!

Another second chance, after  a million chances wasted away, that’s what I pray for.

To hear my name on Your lips, sweet Jesus, the day I’ll face eternity…





The curious sparkle in his eyes shows me that my smile was real, but I say nothing. Today my lips refuse to speak the little lies we’re so used to, or maybe it’s my heart that’s tired of pretending. So I just take his hand and press my fingers into the warmth of his palm, like a little bird trying to find a nest.

He saw me dreaming away and, for one moment, the blue in his eyes became a stormy sea. But then, one split second away, the gates of his soul opened, along with his arms. I put my head on his chest and, in this sweet silence, the beatings of his heart became music.

We broke so many boundaries along the path, some made us grow, some turned us into strangers to each other, but here I am, building my fortress around a love that needs no words. He’s not my prince, not anymore, I’m not his long lost princess, and this castle cannot imprison us. We are more than our hurtful words.

I’m here against all of my fears, he’s here against all of his anger. And, while his fingers carelessly play with my hair, while my body finds it so easy to unwind the tension inside, I inhale the scent of his skin, knowing for sure and for ever that we are Love.

So when tears fall uncontrollable, when my voice breaks and I just cling to you, like a helpless child lost in the rain, when all we have is here and now and you’re afraid to ask me why I laugh and cry at the same time…

then I’ll just whisper in your ear, and you’ll pretend to believe me, ’cause that’s my ultimate truth:

We’re anchors to each other.



It was never me

My fingers press the burning keys with a feverish rush and He knows it. This fire burning in my chest, every time I translate my feelings into written words, only He can put out. My writings, the echoes of a restless soul, without Him, they’re meaningless.

I wanted to write about a love that’s higher than time and history, larger than the distance between earth and sky, stronger than my faith ever will. A love that my life depends on. I wanted to write, but my mind kept wandering into the garden of fears.

So I called Him. And He filled my life with miracles, even when I refused to see them. He forgave my ingratitude and gave a rest to my anxious thoughts. He loves me…

I’m not a writer, nor a poet. I’m far from perfect, and my wings are purely imaginary. I’m stubborn and shy, insecure and desperate sometimes, I’m the white sheep who fantasize to be black, and then crazily runs at the sight of a wolf. In a world full of wolves!

So when I write and words flow like rivers of healing waters, it’s Him.

And when my voice is clear and strong against injustice, it’s Him.

When I forgive the one who broke me, and I still love, against all reason,

And when I smile through tears, still saying the hopeful words, it’s Him!

My fingers press the burning keys while Love settles inside and words become Light…So, when I touch your heart, when you and me feel so connected, that I can almost feel your arms around me in a warm hug, no matter the distance, then you’ll know it too.

It was Him all along.

It was never me.