Photo by Everton Vila on Unsplash

It hits you
maybe you don't know him that well
all you knew was he liked rock
and was a good kisser

You wonder
if your world with him was only a frame
when your mouths and bodies collided
nothing magical, meaningful

You don't know him tired, exhausted from work
lazy in pijamas and not groomed at all
you dont know how his tears taste
or how he plays like a child with his dog

It is deeply saddening
how all your feelings can be reduced to what you don't know
because you know he puts other people first
but has he put you first?

What lingers are scraps of what you called affection
mourning what was out of your touch, always


Photo by Max Kleinen on Unsplash

As little as it goes
my mind creates that universe
where the hummingbird blood
falls into the middle of my legs

I create that space
of a nightmare memory
I cannot escape
I do not try even
knowing I can’t

Give me a gun
to kill me in the nightmares


I write an incomplete poem
when I think of you.
the sudden echo of your laugh
flows through my body
I inevitable submit
to the tiny butterflies in me

Broken memories play
a whisper
a smile
tiny conversations about nothing,
about everything,
again the tiny butterflies appear

But it is always an incomplete poem,
I can't finish it
your smile stops
your last cold words sink in
I stop to write once again
the tiny butterflies suddenly
die


Photo by 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič on Unsplash

From nostalgia are made our memories
a little kid cries inside
between my lungs and the heart
that empty space where the soul was

I almost can touch her little eyes
filled with tears
a skin full scars
she carries my pain
so I can bare to stand up

learn
accept
embrace
heal

little kid
my own inside little girl
please, stop the cry
I am coming home tonight


Photo by Jasmine Waheed on Unsplash

When I miss you I bake
the sweet kisses you gave me once
can be replicated with some sugar
my cookie heart

put dark chocolate memories
and some maple syrup
because the blackness comes
to eat me alive
I bake wondering if you miss
the softness of my skin

eat them alone
cry you alone
miss you alone
when I bake

my cathartic act


Photo by Lina Trochez on Unsplash

We can transform the world
drop by drop in watercolor
from grayscale to a rainbow
with music love
writing our most beautiful poem
singing our saddest song
the pain goes with the wind
reach others that share it
let’s plant a flower
and give it to the sun

growth.

We can write our true story
stumbling crying laughing
do it a bit better than before
it is in our blood to breathe love
let’s go and spread it

hope.


Poetry Sunday

Photo by Nathan Walker on Unsplash

Maybe I will see you on Monday and hug you
your arms hug me back tightly
maybe we will kiss
be one again
you eat me with kisses
take my clothes off and I will calm your hunger
of loving each other a little more

Maybe we will talk about anything
or talk about the weather
how is your dog and how is the coffee
maybe we will talk about everything
about the wounds and apologies
feelings and that cheesy stuff
that at end are the only things that matter

Maybe we will decide to love a little more discovering…


Photo by Jack Finnigan on Unsplash

You have met them, you know them, maybe one of them from your work or school, in your circle of friends, could be even you brother (uh, that is scary). Maybe you had a crush on a bad boy, you dated one, you had sex with one (hopefully you did not marry one). They are appealing. They appeal to you with their cool attitude, their self-confidence, the way they do not give a fuck about the world, or mostly, they seem not to. The ones I have met fitted the stereotyped criteria of bad boys, handsome, sexy, with a body…


Photo by Jonny Clow on Unsplash

I honor my body
and cry when I need
laugh when bursts of happiness come

I honor the kid in me
when instead of judging
because of the lies in my head
-I am not enough
and the need to hit random life milestones-
I look inside me and see

growth

Amanda Salvador

A human being trying to heal and found her own voice. A self-love journey.

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