“Finding inner peace is a lost art for with every breath and sigh new stimuli comes and leaves us in a pool of racing thoughts and worries.”

And when I was looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that beneath these scars lies a woman, that is good that is kind, that I myself aspired to be.

Carrying the weight of my mistakes I burst into flames that hurt my skin.

A sense of calmness in this chaotic world somehow soothes me.

Would you want to breathe if you were to ask for oxygen? Would you want to drink if you were to beg for a glass of water? would you want to eat if you were to pray for a plate of food? Well, I wouldn’t.

I can truly see myself in that light, the green iris of my eye like a jungle, full of life. And when snow covers the green, and my skin looses its color I crave that wilderness in my eye.

I believed less is what I needed, what I tried to achieve; I thought less is more, better, the minimalistic beauty of life.

Hatred conquers the sea in which is growing thee them tiny pearls struggling a little trying to solve the final riddle.

The beautiful repose of the night its silence and mystery contrasts the commotion of my soul.

Oh, how I wish you were here bathing in the silky sheets of my dreams, your lips on mine a flame and wine smoke in the air clouds filled with thoughts oh, how I long for your skin and touch.

When the grass turns brown nobody seems to care. It’s just temporary, they say yet I can feel it will stay and stay.

From time to time, I would like to cut off all the strings and lines that conclude that ridiculous puppet show they call life.

I cried and cried and cried having Realized that the beauty of my soul was being neglected by nobody else but myself.

And I try, I so try to fit everywhere, with everyone to be neutral, to be good and with all that, I lose myself. I lose the truest layer of all.

I feel all that, your touch your presence your breath but can’t tell if its you I’m looking at.

Yet now as we grow older why must we be frightened of being tranquil?

We have to remember to do small things every single day and minute for sometimes love is simply not enough to fill our cup.

Art speaks to me through you but words have no ears.

An hopeful soul is an art of miracles.

Oh darling, grab a bit of courage to turn your scars into art.

Art speaks when words are unable to explain.

Never mess with a poets heart for they know how to turn broken pieces in a written masterpiece of art.

No art is greater than a human heart.

The greatest form of art is unconditional love.

Hope is a gift I hold in my heart. It spills into words and gets written into art.