Powerful like every natural thing
you were reborn in the form...

...and if you ask about my well-being,
I am floating over clouds...

There are pieces of me
on the couch...

It was a clear morning outside the yellow kitchen
when the grey weather foreboded mischief...

Were you near rebirth?
To dive in pure water...

Can one emerge so bold
from a fragile cocoon...

Are we more than emotions and clay?
Flesh and bones...

I will no longer write aloud.
This will be my last suicide...

She had a face of salt,
her features were fading away...

Colors dripped on the surface
like goosebumps on tender skin...

Blue fell slowly on the last canvas
like a desperate dark night...

Kill me in a poem you inspire,
let me write you in my pen...