Feet
We step back, because we don't know how to come together.
Joanna Nikolova
Psychotherapy
Pink nails room empty spaces street chestnuts i don't know what to do. Everything is so loud and noisy. The words are not enough. Forest. End, river, i'm losing myself in the space. There is no place with time, chaos, steps are in vain. Aroma of
Pantone
It is raining in London today. On the gray roads, there are darker spots. I step on them firmly with my magenta boots.
A Poem Written by My Skin
Bored with that shapes of waiting for what already feels to small, not enough. Dreaming, desire, sense, the unlimited purity honesty experience. Tired of imagining touch, while being deprived. Alone. Left for days, hours, weeks, shamed. unseen. covered. Abused, to look pretty, behind all the clothing make-up cream parfume. Otherwise,
A Very Old Car
Do you think that a person has functions and principles, similar to a car? An engine capacity, power, color? Maybe we don't know our model from the beginning? Sure, we come in a shape, but do we know our shape? All my life I have been trying to
Earrings
Sometimes I buy a special pair of earrings. Expressing that specific quality of my soul. A trait that I so long to be seen. Expression is belonging. Being seen and heard by someone. At other times, I take them off. To remember that my soul is not limited to any
The True Story of Love
Once upon a time, Love was not existent. The first people were living in their herds. In the night they were gathering around the big fire, sitting very close to each other. Close, to be powerful if needed, to fight their enemies and survive. Time went by and people understood
An experiment
Catching the water. | Between the arms of a friend. | Thinking of the past. Blue costume wear. | The sun is bluer then ever. | He is playing jazz. I want to hold your hand. | Swimming in illusion. | Sky is crawling down. Freedom is losing. | I am strangling my words. | River flowing down.
A very old love letter
The thought of meeting you again made my whole world dance around its center until all the layers were shaken off. I was doubting. Doubting me, doubting you, my feelings. Myself. You make me feel both big & small. I want to make myself big enough so that you can
Time
Obsessed. My space is moving with the rhythm of steps. not mine. Fingers. Playing with the air. Of distance. Moments, slippery hiding at the wrinkles of the skin. Sense of broken glass of the city clock. Holding me Hold me Holding me in its reflections. Running in a circle is