and she wondered if they talked too much

Poem, Uncategorized

She looked through the window
as she woke up from a dream
it was raining
she was sitting on the passenger seat
and he was driving, just like any other evening

They were talking

about him

and talking

about her

and talking

about everyone

and talking

and she wondered
if they talked too much
if they felt too little
if she felt something
if he felt anything

He dropped her in front of the house
for the last time, and she cried for the first time

At 3 am she texted him
“Are we running out of words? or out of reasons?”

It has never been read.


APLFD: Accepting

For Future Daughter, Letter


Dear Maera,

At one point you’ll understand that love isn’t magic. That love takes and gives. That love means accepting someone completely with all the flaws, the bended and even the broken parts caused by someone else in the past. Love means accepting that some damages can not be repaired and some shades of color can not be repainted.

That love means accepting someone with all those unseen tiny holes inside, those tiny holes we can never get into, those tiny holes filled with other things we’re never sure of, those tiny holes that might be just empty.

And that someone can be yourself.





Postcard to Aralia



Rome, November 6, 2012

Hello from Rome to Aralia!

Do you know what could be worse than having flown through almost half of the globe then finding out that your fiance had fallen out of love and been seeing someone else (Italiano!)? Not flying and not finding it out. Getting a heart broken in Rome is surely the scariest thing one can ever experienced! Couple with their mouth locking each other at, like, every corner! Luckily there are lots of gelateria and espresso and Mediteranian hunks. Well, maybe it’s not bad at all. I’m thinking about flying to Freiria and finding that Portuguese guy I met through OKcupid 3 years ago. Wish you were here to stop me.

Love, JulietLosingRomeo0108