Knowing his heart is broken…


Would you hold him one more time? Knowing he’s dying inside, for someone else, for something above…you.

It’s the same old story, but today I’ll give it a new glamour. A revamp, a new rhythm. Because he came crying in the rain, too weak and too tired to care about the arms  he’s resting his lonely soul into.

It happened to be me, the one with open arms and wide smiles. The one who chose to be naive, blind, fool and helpless to his never endless sadness. It’s me, you know? It’s this mask of inner strength and happiness that you’re always searching.

Like a helpless child, like a sinking boat, like a leaf in a tornado. Too sad and too lonely to even notice. Too desperate to even care. About the heart that’s holding his crying in the darkest night. About the eyes that rose from ashes. But hey, today we’re changing the story…so, what about…

Let’s start again!

He came to me, crying in the rain, crashing into my loving arms.

Who are you crying for? Is it me?

What are you dying for? Is it us?

Where is your road leading to? Is it back home?

He nodded and mumbled something like…”you wouldn’t understand.” And I said “just try me, I’m smarter than I look!” So he looked at the white wall, with white eyes and white heart. (Black heart…) and asked me:

“Would you hold me, knowing my heart is broken? For someone…”

Sssshhhhtttt! Don’t even go there!

I wiped away his tears and I ran my fingers through his hair. I kissed his lips and I put my arms around him. Then I took one step back.

Absolutely not. 

That’s what I said, smiling.

My dear…I did it a thousand times and look what it has done to me. You see the scars? You see the ashes? Do you see the place where this love threw my soul away? Into hell…and back, an endless spiral of pain, misery and self-hate.

And I’m not a half-woman to love a half-man. I was born complete and perfect and free! I am more than a refuge, I need more than the crumbles of your affection. 

So, come back to me, my love, when you’ll be whole again…

Because this is not a mask. This inner strength is real. And for the first time, I’m keeping it!



The source of the image is:





Before you hit the ground…


“I was brought here by the power of love. For you to open your heart…to fly back in time and space. She needs to be saved…”

We were standing on the top of a mountain, on early spring. The snow was still white, but, under my bare feet, it felt warm. I knew the story by heart, I carried with me like a precious memory, a lesson of destiny, but I was wrong. And the burden made my shoulders ache, made my soul burn…

The little girl is still there, clinging to her father’s shoulders. He carried her like she were a pair of wings. But the rain was cold and frightening, awakening all the sleepy monsters, all of her fears. Afraid of falling, terrified of the highs that turn so suddenly into abysses. 

The bridge was unstable and slippery, shaking under their feet. The rain turned into storm and the coldness made her tremble. It was the dark of death that blinded her eyes. She knew, she felt the falling long before it happened. 

Because in a world where seconds turn into years, wings get cut and hearts get broken. And Children are always caught between the stormy souls of their human angels. 

Her human angel fell on the slippery bridge and the little girl -his wings- saw the abyss too close. And nothing held her anymore…nothing but her love for life, her faith in a God of mercy, her innocent hope in a brighter tomorrow.

“I was brought here by the power of an honest prayer. That’s all she was clinging to. With a storm above her and death waiting bellow, she needs her angels now.”

But…I don’t know…

…and I can’t…

…and I’m afraid…

…that I’ll hit the ground, like I do it all the time!

And this is not my mission! See, Guardian Angel, she saved herself! She got back to the bridge, with hands and feet full of bruises. She helped her father stand! She looked up to the sky with bright eyes…

He shake his head.

“No. She never saved herself. She looked up to the sky with angry eyes and with a broken heart. She may be alive now, but her trust in people, her hope for a miraculous salvation, fell and died into abyss.

And you…lost little girl…you’re still trembling every time you’re contemplating storms and highs and loneliness…

I was brought here by the power of a bright hope. Fly there, take her in your arms and keep her safe and loved.

Because no child should ever feel helpless.

I cried on the top of the mountain. Haunted by the old helpless and painful feeling.

“Don’t be scared and don’t ever forget. Before you hit the ground, there are always wings growing in your soul. And you know what’s the real miracle?”

You always knew how to fly high. 



The source of photo:

Just let it kill you…


With arms wide opened, I embraced the rain and tasted the tears with dried, agonizing lips. Forgive me, tearful sky, but I’d rather hold him tight and kiss him endlessly than contemplating these scattered-gray clouds above us…

He’s here, still my best friend, still smiling and living his joyful life. I’m here, without him, missing him in everything that truly matters. And love has too many shades of gray and it tastes like a bitter-sweet poisonous honey.

We had it all, the sunny skies and the green grass, full of white flowers, angels singing our favorite songs. We touched the sky more than one time and we fell in love over and over again, thousand times in thousand perfect little moments.

I’m looking down far too often, I’m looking away every time and he noticed. He asked to see my eyes, he claimed the light he once saw in them. He’s afraid he’ll forget how the green turns into golden brown every time we laugh together. “Your eyes are different” he said, unaware of the wasted brightness, ignoring the years of tears. What a foolish way to live our lives!

It was his hand that stopped the music.

It was his voice that turned romance into drama.

It was his choices that broke my innocent love story…

And I…I confess…I tried to kill our love. Immortal, eternal, sacred and heavenly, love refused to die. I asked my angels for a sign, and they gave me this sweet rain. With heart shaped clouds that turned into purple under my teary eyes.

Be brave…they said.

…and let it kill you.

…because it will only take a spark of faith, a drop of hope into your ocean of doubts,

and you’ll be reborn.



Source of the photo:

This perfect moment that I created in my mind…


Maybe it was the voice of an angel, that inner voice I couldn’t ignore…Or, maybe, it was a part of my past I just couldn’t move on from, repeating the lines over and over again. My intentions were pure…

…so, here I am, with chocolate cookies, sandwiches and tea. And a blanket…

He’s sleeping on the same bench I saw him yesterday and he seems in peace, even smiling in his sleep. I imagine the moment when he’ll wake up and he’ll find the hot tea and the food. Will he blame this on the angels he’s drawing every day? Will he believe he’s still dreaming? Will his demons stop for just a moment, now that he has someone praying for him?

I come closer and tuck him in, the blanket is warm and smooth, will he dream of the perfect embrace? The scars I see on his hands and chest, self-inflicted wounds, some still fresh, senseless words…

“No” and “Not her” and “Stop” and something strange…the word “VOW” in big letters, with a date under it. Written above his heart.

He’s waking up, so I’d better leave. That’s what my reason is telling me, but, again, that inner voice…

His smile when he sees me standing there, with a cup of hot tea, simply takes away my fears. And I see his eyes now, they’re blue. Not dark, not deep, but blue like the stormy sky.

“You’re real? Not just in my head? Not just another hallucination?” 

He takes the tea, not knowing what to say, how to show gratitude. There’s no need to…I feel it, from heart to heart, beyond words. I did what I came for, now it’s time for me to leave.

“Please don’t leave me. Just…just tell me why.”

“Because I can only imagine how cold are the nights you spend here, on this bench. And I wanted to make your life a little easier, at least for this morning.”

“You know I hate liars. The truth, please.”

His words are harsh, he always did this, during my summer practice at the mental hospital. Asking me to go beyond the surface, to confront my hidden truths. Now, 16 years later and many, many scars…he learned to say “please”. And I’m still learning to stop lying to myself.

“Okay…I will tell you. See, in my darkest moments, when even faith seemed to fade away, no light at the horizon, I used to close my eyes. To imagine something. A perfect moment made of so many beautiful details…A glass of warm milk and chocolate cookies for breakfast…and a golden ray of light on my window…a gentle wind on my skin. Barefoot in an enchanted forest where the perfect music is played by humming birds…”

“And his love.”

“Yes…and his love.”

“But you never got that. So you’re creating perfect moments for the lost ones. Lonely little girl, if you only knew…”

“Tell me, I want to know.”

“My perfect moment is right here and now. It starts with a cup of hot tea and you, sitting on this bench…like we would be common people. A simple conversation or just listening to the birds singing, this is my perfect moment…”

“We can do this, we really can.”

“No…we can’t ignore the past. My crime. The pills I have to take, to keep the voices quiet. The constant struggle, the darkness, the scars…But, for just one moment, you made me dream of a perfect moment like this. Thank you.”

“There is a shelter where you can get help…even a job…maybe some friends…”


“I have my help, they’re around me always…even now. They tell me to send you away. They ask me to keep you safe.”

“I am safe, I trust in this light I’m seeing in you, it’s stronger than the darkness.”

I see tears in his eyes and I wish I could…I wish I could change things. For him, for me, for all the lost ones…

“I told you then and I’m telling you again. I cannot give you peace! Not now…not while I walk through the darkest darkness. But I can save your life. And I will!”

And he’s throwing all the food on the muddy ground. And starts to scream and to destroy his canvas. “Leave me alone! Leave! Officer! Someone! She’s stealing my food! Police! I need help!”

And, while I’m trembling in shock and horror, he grabs my arm, whispering to my ear.

“You need to create those perfect moment in reality, not just in your head. Find your enchanted forest. Find love. You know I hate liars and you’re always lying!”

“I didn’t…”

“You said you trust the light when there is no light! Now run! You thief! Officer, she stole my food!”

I run and the wind is drying my tears stained face.

And, looking behind, from a safe distance, I see him curled up on the ground, crying, trying to save the chocolate cookies…





Just a lonely little girl…


16 years ago…

The interview was not going well, not at all…He must have sensed my fear, because he just shut down all the communication, concentrating exclusively on his drawing. “The Painter”, that’s how they called him and he seemed to accept. In fact, in the old mental hospital, being famous would probably bring more attention, better food, even care.

I knew his case from the local news papers and now, standing face to face with the painter, I realized I knew nothing at all. He was painting angels, like always, completely ignoring my questions. A lost cause and a lost scholarship…

-You ask the wrong question in a very unpleasant manner. Maybe I should interview you. How old are you?

I dropped my pencil and my papers, creating a wave of laughter somewhere behind me. I was 21 back then, in my summer practice. All blushed, with a trembling voice, I decided to lie.

-I’m 23.

The noise was terrible. In an outburst of rage, he just smashed down his canvas and blue paint was spilled all over the floor.

-I hate liars. You are 21 and you look like 18! And you’re trying so hard to impress people with your fake inner peace and your inner strength and your high heels and…

A nurse approached us, but he stopped her.

-No. I am calm. I want her to ask the right questions. I want her to speak her mind and her fears. I will not shout at her anymore.

My colleagues were starring, so I whispered What are the right question?

-You torture yourself to appear in a way that’s so different from the lonely little girl I see in front of me. Why?

Because I need to know…

The words flew out of my mouth, without control.

-You need to know why I killed that girl? Why I paint angels? Why I’m locked in here instead of living a beautiful life? Why do you need to know? For your paper work?


For me…it will give me a sense of control…over life.

He got closer, dangerously closer.

-I can’t give you inner strength, I can’t give you self-control or peace of mind. It will take years…years of tears and fears to conquer those…and it’s your mission to accomplish. But I will tell you why I paint angels.


-Because one of them talks to me right now. And she’s ready to cry, sweet lonely girl…


I saw him and it was almost impossible to recognize him. All covered in black, even the hands, even the face. Free. Painting angels in the park.

-I see you too.

I didn’t realized I was starring and, to make it all even more awkward, he came closer.

-You are very, very beautiful.

Thank you.

-Tears and fears and pain made your eyes brighter. I’m a free man now. How about you?

I have no answer and he knows it.

-It’s okay, just ask.


-Something that starts with “why”.

And I ask the obvious. Why are you covered in black clothes? It’s so warm and sunny…

He comes closer, dangerously closer.

-Black clothes keep the darkness inside. I cannot let it out again.

And I understand now the reason…somehow the answers I was searching for were right there, in my soul.

Do you have any control over your darkness?

-I have my angels…Do YOU have any control over your life?

I have to go, I’m sorry…

He grabs my arm.

-You’re rushing back…where? Tell me, sweet girl, why are you so lonely? I need your answer.


-Because you appeared in my dreams to heal my loneliness. With your bright, tearful eyes. And I painted you in thousand paintings, but it’s still not enough…

I pulled away and ran, using my sun glasses to hide away my tears.

I looked back, a few steps away, he was still there, talking to an invisible presence.

“No, I wont…I wont harm her…no…there’s light inside her…you know why…you know she’s protected…stay inside me…don’t go after her…she cried enough.”

John 12:35 Then Jesus told them, “You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. Whoever walks in the dark does not know where they are going.”




Source of the image:





Sometimes we long for the unspoken


There’s a point where the emotional pain becomes physical. Beyond that, human mind creates echoes of our own sufferance.

-You need to give a meaning to this image because it’s haunting you for years, so speak the unspoken and set yourself free.

-I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t!

-Why? There will be no judgement, you did nothing wrong. I wont say a single bad word, I wont blame. It’s all in your mind, honey…nothing really happened.

-You don’t understand…it’s not because I’m afraid of your judgement…is just that…


Well, setting myself free would mean putting a huge burden on you! And I can’t…

But he convinced me, unaware of the crucial importance of my confession. So here is the story, the way I lived it.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I remember the pills. They were supposed to take the pain away and to help me sleep. The image of the chaos we created, his wedding ring somewhere on the floor, his clothes, an open suitcase, the sound of the door he slammed behind him, in anger.

But he came back, I feel him in my half-conscious sleep, he came back because our love is stronger than any prejudice, our love is divine and he knows it…

It’s cold, even if we’re in the middle of the summer…He’s gently covering my trembling body with the soft blanket and I cry. He’s caressing my hair, barely touching my face. It’s different, he’s different and I love this tenderness. I’m trying to open my eyes, he sees my struggle and I feel him kissing my closed eyes. I feel so safe, like never before…

I need you…don’t go…don’t leave me…

Shhhtttt…he whispers and his fingers are pressing against my lips…a shiver runs through my body and I’m sobbing again. There are things he needs to hear…but he wants me to stop talking. I open my lips, there’s no air and I’m gasping…

I love you…

Love…I hear his voice like an echo, but I cannot recognize it…I was suffocating before and now it feels like floating, I dream of blue waters and playful golden lights…He’s holding me, I feel cradled, his arms are my fortress…

But why…why can’t I…

I want to run my fingers through his hair, to look into his eyes, to savor the smell of his skin and the taste of his kisses. Trapped in this darkness, I’m awake, but motionless, laying helpless, betrayed by my senses, struggling to breath…

No…it shouldn’t…hurt…

Quiet…stay quiet…his voice…his fingers on my neck…there’s something cold and I need him to promise that it’ll be alright. Because I’m afraid and I’m hurting…

I’m sorry…

I see it in his eyes, he’s not sure what to make of this story of mine.

And the next thing I remember is the sound of your keys and you trying to wake me up. I cried for hours, in a state of shock.

-You were upset and that’s normal. It was our first big fight and I reacted so foolishly. First thing I did when I came back was to put my wedding ring back on my finger. I never took it off ever since that day.

-You think I made this up? The blue traces on my neck, like being strangled, the bruises on my body, the nightmares…

-I think you had a bad dream, caused by the sleeping pills combined with the painkillers you took.

-What if…

-I would never do that to you, I’m not a monster! What you’re implying is abominable, horrible, and I would never…

-Not you…but what if…

-Don’t! Don’t even say the words. You know what? You were right, I’m sorry for asking you, I’m sorry for pushing you to say these things. They’re better left unspoken. I’m…going out…I need air…

There’s a point where human mind creates echoes of our own emotional pain. That’s where the nightmares come to life, that’s what defines the darkness we’re so eager to explore. My search for answers became his burden, our longing for the unspoken became his curse.

Was it real or was it just a nightmare…

Was it him or a complete stranger…

Was it abuse or a weird unconsciously consent…

Does it matter?

When the line is so thin and blurry…The unspoken becomes real. Emotional pain creates monsters. We abuse our fragile souls seeking for a damnation of any kind, of anyone…



Does she look like me?


He took my hand and his touch was magical, erasing memories, restoring lost promises, creating hope. Just friends…these words, this barrier between us…was it me the one building walls? Was it out of a weird self-protective instinct? Or was it him?

It doesn’t seem fair, he was lonely and I was in love. This balance is dangerously fragile, leading to heartbreak and misery. We hate drama, we avoid complications, so what draws us back into this spiral of unwanted emotions? We keep loving our own masks while the real me always looses.

-I lost you again, right? 

-I’m sorry, what were you saying?

-That I’m ready to fall in love again.


He’s ready for a chapter I already wrote in my mind, a thousand times before. He wants to fall in love…I want to see him rising in love, shining bright and happily, I want to give him…someone, anyone in fact…this love I’m carrying inside me. So why, why is he pulling away his warm touch. Why is he acting like a simple friend?

-The only problem is that I don’t seem to find the right one. 

Foolish me, the warmth in my heart just froze and I understand. He needs me…but not my love, not my affection, not my desire…he needs my support. Come on, that’s what I know best…so I’ll just play this role once again. Hopefully my performance will not be affected by the tremble inside me.

-Okay, so describe me your vision of a perfect partner for you.

He laughs.

-Well, I’ll try, but is complicated. 

She needs to be feminine, but not helpless. Strong, but still sensual and not afraid to show me her softness. Not afraid to let me protect her, but ready to be my greatest support…

She has to impress, but not to search desperately for people’s attention. To be subtle, but not to flirt with strangers. Attraction is important, if she cannot respond with passion and devotion, then she’s probably not the right one…

She should love nature and dancing. I’d love to see her running barefoot through the green grass of spring, with the wind in her hair and a long, white dress. Still, she’d better be comfortable in an expensive dance club. Don’t want her insecure, don’t want her asking me what should she wear or how should she act in public…

I also want her independent. Her money, her job, her friends…I want to respect her and I cannot respect someone who’s depending on me for material things…

And I simply cannot find this woman…

I wonder if he sees my big eyes, filled with rage and frustration. This image he just pictured in front of me, this impossible dream of his, just murdered my fantasies. And I can’t help but wonder…

-So what are you willing to give? For this precious woman to even look at you?

He cannot sense the sarcasm in my voice. Am I too subtle or is he just deaf?

-I’m giving my love, obviously…

-Well, my friend…sometimes love is simply not enough. You said nothing about her looks. A model, I guess…perfect size and modeling experience? Photo shootings and fashion industry…she should have at least a few contracts with famous designers, right? Right?

-NO! Of course not! She should be beautiful, but not a model! Long blonde hair, green eyes, light, soft skin…Why are you so upset?!

“Because of your stupidity” – that would be an honest answer, but I stay quiet. He comes closer, touching my cheek, his fingers tenderly caressing my sensitive skin.

-There’s something I wanted to tell you…I want her to look like you…in my fantasies, she looks like you. She is…you. I guess that’s why you got so upset…maybe you want to be her too…I would try with you, sweetheart…


I’m shouting the words and I practically run from our table. One look over my shoulder and I see the disaster I created. I spilled coffee and ice cream (and my lemonade, I think) all over his expensive pants.

I see him laughing, I see him pointing to the sky, I hear his voice…

“Come back, you wild, crazy angel! My impossible fantasy-woman, my run away girl! Just come back!”

“Yeah, right, in your dreams…!”



All credits for the image:



So here I am, on bended knees

e873e8ec2912c1db31d8311311a17b3a-d4p3kao“I don’t remember how I got here, the paths I took, the dangers I ignored, the demons I fought…but here I am. To tell you how wrong I was, to hope and pray you’ll listen to the words that sound like damnation…”

The little church was dark and small, hidden deep in the heart of the forest and my knees were hurting, my heart was aching and the regrets were burning inside me.

“I feel I don’t have time and I need it…because I still have love and I still feel life. I’m here, on bended knees…to ask for one more day. I’m not ready, Lord!”

And that’s all I’m able to say before falling. The pain in my heart becomes unbearable, my knees are shaking so badly, it’s cold, it’s dark, it’s….

…a demon or a ghost…a spirit caught between worlds or just…

…him. This touch on my shoulders and the way he’s taking me in his arms. The dark flames in his eyes. And me…I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know who I am anymore…all I know is that I cannot breath without him. Christian…

Don’t cry, don’t…It will be alright. A long life is waiting ahead and not any life. A life of love, a wonder after another. New places…the world! All yours. Say you want it, that’s all it takes!

“I do…”

Come with me. I’ll give you everything you ever dreamed of!


And freedom. And beauty and fun. An easy life, away from the coldness of this church. A life in the sun, discovering the most amazing places of this earth. 

My knees still hurt and I feel like falling asleep.

Stay with me…you’ll never have to kneel again. You’ll never beg for forgiveness, you’ll never cry desperate tears of pain and loneliness. You will be gone for them, forever gone…

“How…if I love them? If I want them with me always…How will I ever be happy without my family?”

I will be your family, you’ll be so loved that you’ll forget all about the past. They’ll forget you…people disappear all the time, for how long do you think they’ll search for you? One year?

“One lifetime. Then another one…”

Silly girl…they’ll cry a few days, mourn another few days. They’ll pray for about a week, they’ll be sad for about a month. One year they’ll remember you through holidays. Then nothing.

His words cut like a knife.

“You don’t love me, Christian. If you would, you’d know how much you’re hurting me.”

He looks down.,

This is my way of loving you. This is how I’m protecting you. Why do you think you’re here? You cannot remember how you got here, so how will you go back home? Completely helpless, defenseless and lost. Will you fight your own heart?

“I will make the right choice.”

And I wake up in tears.

…knowing now, for sure, that he never truly left, I never really let him go…

…wrong place, wrong time, wrong actors. No second chances, no other life to right the wrong. So, even if it hurts, here I am, on bended knees…

…searching for my way out of the darkness. And making the right choices.




All credits for the image to



In a world without sound…


I called your name and it was sweet on my lips, like a prayer. As a little girl, I used to write it on little pink notes and pour rose perfume on it. And later, your name was love…But now, when my lips are whispering the precious words, you can’t hear me calling your name.

I asked for your help, but you were lost somewhere, in that world of yours. I was overwhelmed, tired and lonely, so I raised my voice at you, like no woman in love should ever do. Not with her soulmate…But you didn’t even blinked, I guess you can’t hear me calling for help.

I blamed you for my wasted years, for my loneliness and for pushing me over the edge. I was unfair, I was mean…you’re not to blame for my own choices. I just wanted more than the sound of silence. But you looked away, I think you can’t hear me going insane.

So I laughed and I sang until the music was louder than my tears.

So I screamed in agony and I scratched the surface of our broken dream. I tear it apart.

So I smashed this porcelain heart of mine to the ground. I don’t need it anymore!

But I still need you…to hear.

Because as long as you can hear me…I’m still a part of your world, as twisted and crazy as it is.

My love, can you hear me calling? Don’t be too late, don’t let it end…the sound of your heart beating is still my best melody. Why have you muted me? Am I still alive?

Eternal light

I don’t know what time is now in Heaven, but I fell asleep crying. You said something and it felt like a premonition, remember? I don’t remember the words, but the feeling still lingers deep within me. And it made me a better person.

I guess there’s no mail box to Heaven, but I’ll write you anyway. The world misses you and they ask why. You told us to pray, to persevere in faith, even when we feel like falling. I’m sorry for not being strong enough, but, you see…your leaving left me frozen. And it made me aware.

I can only imagine the joy of your home coming. The big gates of Heaven and the family of angels, welcoming your light. I look above, like so many others, waiting to see your smile because, down here, earth is a little darker. And I’m so much lonelier.

Please pray for me when I’m weak and foolish. Inspire me to believe, be my courage and my strength when I’m tired and weary. Don’t forget us, the humble ones, blessed to be contemporary with a saint.

I don’t know what time is now on Heaven, but here in this world you left behind, it’s time to carry on our common mission. Just like you said, (-yes, now I remember!-) at the end of the day we may not be saints, but we surely can be one step closer…

In loving memory of Br. Anthony Freeman, called to his heavenly home on Easter day. Requiem aeternam, dona ei, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen.