Saturday, February 27

6 Words

I cannot write six-word stories.

Pages and pages of history have come down
from the tips of my fingers
rooted to the depths of my insides,
and no matter how much I write,
my words are still half-truths
unable to explain
the never-ending flutter of wings
that does not tire inside my chest.
A world of pain, a universe of love
can't be confined
within the borders of a white page,
the boundaries of words.
Photo by Lauren R. W.

Friday, February 26


by october
Iubirea este ireversibilă.

Sunday, February 21


Ignore it.
It will go away.
Don't face it.
You're not ready.

I was looking forward to getting over you. But you decided differently. I should be happy, but all I feel is fear. All I wanted was you... And I was prepared for rejection, indifference, detachment, silence. Not allowed. Not enough. Not mine. Not yours. Not ever.

I never trained my heart to be ready for you wanting me back.
What now?
I'm drowning, and I've lost my will to breathe.
Photo by bliXX-a

Saturday, February 20


There are mornings when I can't seem to get out of bed, not ready to face reality. I just lie there, daydreaming, reliving our few moments together, letting my fantasies get the best of me, and I smile at the memories until they sadden me.

There are mornings when I push my body out of bed before the first light, forcing my mind not to think about you. No, I'm not making you coffee. No, I'm not sharing my first cigarette with you. No, this will never be. I've got to face reality.

I need to move on, I used to say, less and less convincingly. I am stuck in a marsh of my own feelings. And I don't even know how you became such a big part of my life without really being a part of it at all.
Photo by Ersatz-moon

Thursday, February 18


by october
Sunt un inadaptat. M-am inadaptat destul de bine la lume. Şi repede. Între mine şi lume s-a format o prăpastie. În ea mai cade din când în când lumea. Eu nu cad niciodată, dar încerc.

Wednesday, February 17


I fucked up.
I fucked up again.
Like a moth burning its wings in the same flame that almost killed it the last time.
Like a stupid fly hitting its head against the closed window, again and again.
I tell you I love you in as many ways as I can without saying "I love you"
When all I actually want is wipe you off of my mind
And I now realize the cruelest thing I ever did to myself
was promise to never forget you

Saturday, February 13

You Speak to Me in My Dreams

Ce vrei de la mine, iubito?
Ia-mi trupul răvășit de furtună
căci sufletul mi-e pustiu de atâta iarnă
Ia-mi zâmbetul obosit să ascundă
ceea ce ochii doar mai știu să spună
Ia-mă pe bucățele
că întreg nu mai sunt de mult
Ia-mă dacă vrei
sau lasă-mă cum sunt...

Photo by Whitecrow-soul

Thursday, February 11

Fifteen Ways to Stay Alive

by Daphne Gottlieb

1.     Offer the wolves your arm only from the elbow down. Leave tourniquet space. Do not offer them your calves. Do not offer them your side. Do not let them near your femoral artery, your jugular. Give them only your arm.
2.     Wear chapstick when kissing the bomb.
3.     Pretend you don’t know English.
4.     Pretend you never met her.
5.     Offer the bomb to the wolves. Offer the wolves to the zombies.
6.     Only insert a clean knife into your chest. Rusty ones will cause tetanus. Or infection.
7.     Don’t inhale.
8.     Realize that this love was not your trainwreck, was not the truck that flattened you, was not your Waterloo, did not cause massive hemorrhaging from a rusty knife. That love is still to come.
9.     Use a rusty knife to cut through most of the noose in a strategic place so that it breaks when your weight is on it.
10.     Practice desperate pleas for attention, louder calls for help. Learn them in English, French, Spanish: May Day, Aidez-Moi, Ayúdeme.
11.     Don’t kiss trainwrecks. Don’t kiss knives. Don’t kiss.
12.     Pretend you made up the zombies, and only superheroes exist.
13.     Pretend there is no kryptonite.
14.     Pretend there was no love so sweet that you would have died for it, pretend that it does not belong to someone else now, pretend like your heart depends on it because it does. Pretend there is no wreck — you watched the train go by and felt the air brush your face and that was it. Another train passing. You do not need trains. You can fly. You are a superhero. And there is no kryptonite.
15.     Forget her name.

Wednesday, February 10


I distance myself, I find the middle way in this terrible war that goes on between my heart and mind, that in which I am the only victim no matter who wins, and then you say hello. A smile snaps in place, and my heart stops inadvertently, not caring that I have to live for myself as well.
One word from you is enough to throw me off balance. And I am strong, yes, I am fearless, yet my knees keep shaking, and I am lost for words. Again.

You, my Moriarty, my kryptonite, I hope you never find out just how much power you have over me.

Sunday, February 7

Prea târziu

"Mai târziu..." am spus, nerecunoscând ironia ascunsă în spatele inocenței cuvintelor.
Uneori, viața îți dă lecții atunci când te aștepți mai puțin.
"Mai târziu" nu există. Totul e acum. Înghesuie cât mai multe zâmbete în fiecare clipă de trăire și îmbrățișează fiecare emoție. Nu râde de copilul care spune "mâine am fost" fiindcă mâine a fost deja, într-o clipită, și ieri va fi din nou dacă alegem să repetăm aceleași greșeli.
Digital Art by Sparco2

Thursday, February 4

It's Time

For too long now you have been the air in my lungs, the dreams in my sleep, the spiderweb in front of my eyes that kept me from seeing the rest of the world.

Time to let go.

You've been nowhere close to giving me what I needed, so I slowly learned to breathe without you, dream without you, see the world without you in it.

Time to move on.

And I will not cry, I will not hurt, I will not be bitter. I have the right to be happy.
And I will be fine. I will be more than fine -- I will be free.

Of you.
Digital Art by Maritza Andrade