snow white, beautiful.

why are you still so

insecure?

sitting in the back of someone's car,

dark out,

and you don’t know

where you are.

snowflakes fall

and hit against the glass,

ripped tights and black lace

on pale skin,

beneath a borrowed coat

from a strange man.

dark wavy hair and

bright glassy eyes like diamonds,

red lips you allow to be kissed,

taste of blood in your mouth,

unsure if you like it.

he takes you out for drinks:

tonic and ice on gin.

you wish you had a part

that no one could get to,

a secret still untouched,

like snow before it's stepped on.

do you remember

being a virgin?

he says,

"why are you so shy?

it’s like you keep a lie".

your smile is rare,

but real with those you trust,

who know your heavy heart,

full of hurt and full of love.

but now it’s just

your makeup, smudged,

as you try to fix it,

barely recognizing yourself

in some broken pocket mirror.

snow white

do you want to be touched?

do you want to be felt?

i think you want something else.

i think you want to be seen,

you just want to be held,

but not by the men who

reach between your thighs,

you force yourself to open up,

they shall not dare to call it love.

three drops of blood

drip in the snow

as you leave,

disappear into the cold,

trying to keep it together,

singing a soothing song

to the moon,

girl, when will you finally

know yourself?

I’m surprised to say

I have gotten to know rage

and I found it in the eye

of intimacy

like a fire,

trying to reclaim space

as he leans in for a kiss

I want to shove him

into the closet door

and scream.

gentle and kind, love of mine,

this is going to be a problem.

short, silver hair.

she was sitting across the room,

legs spread apart, open, sensual charisma,

a sex therapist stereotype.

i’d been crying,

telling her that they would always come after me,

after i’d slammed my door shut.

she described to me

this relaxation technique-

“the internal room” that no one can enter

without an invite.

i closed my eyes:

flowing, organic lines,

no sharp corners.

walls in subtle rainbow pastels and earthy tones that gently blend into each other.

big windows with open, cream-colored curtains, fresh air, light, and warmth

streaming in from all sides.

rich, golden oak floor, warm beneath my naked feet.

a hardwood bed with white linen bedding, neatly folded.

a cream-colored woolen carpet.

my small, cocoa-colored sofa and a wooden stool beside it.

a woven basket with my knitting projects next to some stacks of books.

nothing more- just some space, room to breathe,

room to heal, to grow.

the smell of sunlight- sweet patchouli, beeswax candles.

in one open window,

a set of wind chimes dangling,

dancing delicately in the breeze,

creating tranquil sounds.

her hair ran down her back

black, like a river.

we were sitting on the sofa

her child in my lap.

I said: happy birthday, momma

now you’re not a teen anymore

she said: really?

I said: no, you’re twenty. like me

she said: oh

I said: life is getting serious and smiled

she kept quiet

I was right

he had such pretty big brown eyes

an open face

a mind so bright

meanwhile so much has happened

and today I only hope

that he won’t remember any of it

as he is just one year old

he won’t recall me, that’s for sure

barely ever saw me

just for our weekly walk

or when she threw his food

across the room

shouting at my face that this stupid kid

never eats what she cooks

don’t call him that, I insisted

but always softly, too restrained and I know

now that he’s somewhere else

if anything he will remembers his mom yell

I just hope he won’t.

you

turn winter into spring

when the skin besides

your sky-blue eyes

wrinkles so sweetly

i can't describe

the butterflies

that free up in me

flying wildly

when you smile

how my soul sings

and when it cries

you make it right

you've given me strings

and i trust in them

you've given me wings

trying to make me

embrace my life.

crisp air

blue sky

short hair

bright eyes

and i watch you go,

roam

the streets of the city

you fit here so well

you're smart and you're witty

i dropped you off

with a bag and a moving box

while your parents were busy

and see how the time flies

how much you've bloomed

while i was gone

how good you healed

from getting torn

i love to see you like this

i like to have you shine

maybe i’m being selfish

hoping you won't outgrow me

and i watch you go,

roam

the streets of the city.

i picture you sit

bent forward on my bed

soft skin wrapped

in sunlit linen sheets

your naked back

reveals a universe

and golden curls

fall into your neck

the lines of your body

run into honey

colored hands

how deeply i long for you

each morning

in my chest my love

expands.

you said it's sad

stacks of poetry

unread

i'm losing track

tear me open and hold it back

bleeding onto sheets of paper

gives you stains and specks

you may like to listen now

but if i were a playlist

you hadn't heard most of it yet

and i doubt that you like

every song that i hold

or word that i wrote

more than the courage

i lack