i like

bleeding words onto pages,
spilling stories of lives i’ll never live,
the way water holds me close,
the warmth of paella, the spice of cinnamon,
mountain landscapes, but only if it’s warm,
the soft touch of cushions and blankets,
chocolate melting slowly on my tongue,
alexa’s random playlists that somehow know me,
the strange laughs with friends over the dumbest things
that i’ll carry with me forever.

i don’t like

math with my dad, brussels sprouts,
tomatoes, the smell of cigarettes on the street,
the way my dad and grandma clash,
unclean toilets, rough tablecloths,
chewing sounds that feel way too close,
hearing what my friends said behind my back,
forcing a smile at jokes that flop,
my phone freezing up just for the fun of it,
and my brother beating me to the shower,
leaving me cold and waiting
on the other side of the door.

02 · AMOUR · TEMPS

unfinished

love feels like a sentence
that never finds its period,
a line caught mid-breath,
waiting for an end that never comes.
i think of you as punctuation,
as the pause between heartbeats,
as the dot dot dot
trailing after every promise
we were too afraid to keep.

01 · ÉCRITURE · IDENTITÉ

the poet

i am made of words
the way others are made of skin,
each line a heartbeat,
each verse a prayer i’ve learned to whisper
into empty rooms,
because poetry holds me,
lifts me higher than the ground beneath my feet,
and with every line,
i am reborn.

03 · SILENCE · NOSTALGIE

ghost letters

i write to you
in the language of what-ifs,
in words i’ll never say,
because love is not always spoken aloud,
and sometimes the truest things
live only in silence,
in the spaces between us,
in the shadows of all
that might have been.

roses and snow,
they bloom and fall in different worlds—
one warm with love,
one cold with silence.
roses bleed under the sun,
snowflakes vanish at touch.

a beautiful contrast, red against white,
but they never meet, never speak the same language of love.
they touch, but will always stay apart.
roses bruise, snow fades.
only blood and snow ever do.

05 · AMOUR · DÉSILLUSION

blah blah blah

love is just blah blah blah
until you’ve been in it,
until you’ve felt it burn you,
until it fades
to echoes, to the hum
of old songs on repeat,
and you’re left wondering
why every line they sang
was just blah blah blah
when all you really needed
was someone
to stay.

06 · MANQUE · DOUCEUR

ache of almost

you are the unfinished poem,
the line i never learned to write,
and i am the echo
of every unsaid word.
we are two souls,
strangers caught in the rhythm
of what could have been,
and yet, in my dreams,
i still feel your hand
resting lightly
in mine.

07 · SOLITUDE · DÉSIR

soul hunger

there’s a place inside me
that only knows the language of longing,
a hunger that isn’t for food or drink,
but for the warmth of a hand in mine,
for the breath of another soul
that whispers,
yes, i see you,
yes, i am here, too.

09 · QUOTIDIEN

monday mornings

the coffee whispers,
not today, not today,
but you drink it anyway,
and it’s bitter,
like the small truth
that keeps you awake.

10 · INDÉPENDANCE

single like a city light

single, sure,
but there’s a glow to it,
i am my own skyline,
my own map to the stars.

08 · MÉMOIRE · TENDRESSE

the memory of touch

your touch still lingers,
like sunlight warming forgotten skin,
and though we are miles apart,
some days i swear
i can feel you there,
an invisible hand pressed softly
against my heart,
reminding me of the love
that never left,
the one that still holds me
even now.

11 · FORCE · VULNÉRABILITÉ

independence’s secret

strong, loud,
a woman who could carry cities in her stride,
but in the quiet,
when even the silence hums,
i find myself wishing
for warmth, for something soft,
for a love that feels like rain on rooftops,
not because i need it
but because
i want to be held
by more than just
my own arms.

12 · AMOUR · LIBERTÉ

soft and infinite

love, i’ve learned, is less
about possession
and more about the spaces
we create,
the quiet moments
that stretch on
like soft waves, infinite.

i lost you, slowly,
in the way seasons shift,
a warmth fading,
leaving behind only cold.
and now, i walk through empty rooms
heavy with the weight of memories.

13 · THE ART OF LOSING YOU

15 · SOCIÉTÉ · JUSTICE

beneath the surface

the world pretends,
doesn’t it?
children with small hands reaching for dreams
we keep high on the shelf,
while empty streets echo
with promises left broken,
hope dangling like thin thread,
and still,
they look up,
waiting for something
more than words.

16 · SOCIÉTÉ · INVISIBILITÉ

for those in the shadows

we speak of kindness
like it’s sunlight, limited, fleeting,
but there are faces we turn from,
people who fade into the edges
of our carefully framed world,
and they stand, silent, watching,
as if waiting for us to remember
that they, too, belong
to the light.

17 · VILLE · SOLITUDE

city’s silent hum

in the rain, the city blurs,
a grey heart beating slow and steady,
and i watch from high above
as lives rush beneath umbrellas,
colors dancing across the wet concrete,
each step a song we’ll never hear,
each one carrying
a small universe of their own.

18 · MOTS · RÉSISTANCE

poetry, or the art of rebellion

words are more than breath,
they are the spark before the fire,
a soft revolt hidden in every line,
poetry teaches me
that even the quietest voice
can carve a path through silence,
can change the world.

19 · LIBERTÉ · ENVOL

a fierce kind of freedom

i need no one to reach these heights,
i’ve learned the weight of my own wings,
but sometimes, i wonder—
if two could fly higher,
if love could be the wind.