FROM THE COLLECTION: And we call that love?

All the stories I couldn’t tell you with the variety of my sights,

Everything you didn’t understand in the language of my metaphors,

All the touches you couldn’t read between the waves of my body,

Are coming up in poetry.


Unexpressed narratives

Dance like bubbles in champagne,

Waiting to splash into the air,

Refusing to be bottled up.


You can silence my voice,

Numb your emotions,

Yet you can’t prevent

My words on the paper.


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