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Photo by Hunter Bryant on Unsplash

I don’t know why
but I’m starting to feel a connection
between darkness and abandonment.

Every night
when I turn the lights off
I feel like someone
or something
is leaving and never coming back,
and I just stay there
in the dark,
wondering how many times
a person can be left alone.

What I hate most about the end of the summer
is that darkness come earlier these days
and for me
it is like reliving
all the abandonment
I have suffered in my life.

I don’t want to think
that day runs away from me
but I can’t avoid it. …


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Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I heard there is a village
somewhere by the sea,
where hate is the purest way
of loving each other.

A place where hating someone
means that you cannot accept
what you really feel —
love.

I would like to go to that place
and tell the people from there
that here, where I live,
things are not very different.

If I had to define hate
I’d give it the name
of the people I once loved,
of all those who promised me things
they never intended to do.

If I had to describe hate
I’d say it looks so much like fear,
with one little difference —
I certainly hate her,
yet I’m not scared. …


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Photo by Scott Umstattd on Unsplash

Hoy mi pecho volvió a sentir el suelo,
mientras mis manos, ilusas y tontas,
tapaban mi cabeza
creyendo que podrían protegerla,
y mi corazón, bastante asustado,
latía con la fuerza de un martillo
clavando un par de clavos en mi panza;
así duele el temor,
y así duelen los momentos de angustia.

Se escuchaba un sonido fuerte, sordo,
como los golpes de un palo a una tabla,
así, sin mucho eco,
pues la bala solo rompe el silencio
por un tiempo muy corto,
pero nos deja rotos para siempre;
el eco de una bala son los gritos de dolor
de una madre que entierra a su hijo,
y es la inquietud de un país entero
que sabe que las armas andan sueltas. …


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Photo by Soledad Lorieto on Unsplash

According to destiny,
everything that is meant to be
will return to us,
no matter how long it takes.

I know that the sky
is actually nothing but thin air
and I love the idea
that not a single thing is in the way
between our heads
and the whole universe.

This makes me feel
I could touch the moon
if only I were taller.

According to destiny,
everything that belongs to us
is supposed to find its way back home
even if we’re in a different place.

Now that you’re gone
I do all the things you used to hate
and continually asked me
to stop doing;
I do all that,
hoping you come back
to show your disgust once more,
and once you are here
you feel comfortable
like you used to do,
and stay here with me,
and never leave again. …


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Photo by Geetanjal Khanna on Unsplash

No ha llovido ningún día desde que murió mi madre
Dicen que mi padre lloró mucho,
que las lágrimas se acumulaban de tal modo
que parecía llover bajo su paraguas
y que en un impulso aún inentendible,
enterró a mi madre el mismo día de su muerte,
sin velarla,
para no marchitarla en la intemperie.

Yo creo que él también fue enterrado,
que sus manos me soltaron
para encontrar el camino
al cuerpo muerto de mi madre,
que cayó al pozo y se olvidó del mundo.

Se fue.
Sus manos no volvieron a tomarme.

oye papá, yo soy una de las lágrimas que dejaste…


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Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

There is a portrait of my great-grandfather
somewhere in my mother’s house
and he looks like the kind of man
who saw a ghost at least once in his life.

If I could have a superpower
I’d choose the ability to forgive people
that never said they were sorry.

My heart is a black hole
since everyone who enters
disappears forever.

I want my grave to have a picture of a bat
for people to think I was a vampire,
but it will actually mean
I was shy enough to fly in plain sight.

I’ve never seen a ghost
but I do believe they are the ones
that keep me company at night. …


A poem about getting to know yourself

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Photo by Tegan Mierle on Unsplash

When I was a kid
I saw a homeless guy
talking to himself
and he scared me so much
that I never wanted to talk to myself
because I thought I’d end up living in the street.

Now, I live in a house
with walls and roof
but I don’t know myself.

Loneliness and silence
are one of the few things in the world
that the longer I am with them
the less I understand them.

I don’t understand the relationship
between being happy
and smiling —
the saddest people I know
are the ones who smile the most.

I feel that when I smile
I am showing my soul
to whoever sees me
and that’s why some get scared and leave. …


You just need to practice the Art of Doing Things.

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Photo by Eddy Klaus on Unsplash

There is something I like to call “The art of doing things.” It’s a special and very rare talent that I’ve seen only in a few people throughout my life, and it can be described as when a person has the ability to start to do things that make him happy without thinking if he is good enough to do them.

There is a generalized belief that indicates that in order to do something, we must be very good at it. I think that is not true at all. …


Putting things in perspective

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Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

Throughout my life I have heard many — more than I like to admit — comments from all kinds of people, saying very unpleasant things, such as:

  • Women exaggerate by being afraid when they are surrounded by men… not because one single guy sexually abused a woman means that we are all bad.

Or,

  • gays do not have to be proud of something as their sexual preference, I mean, it’s like if we held a parade just because we like women.

I listen to these kinds of comments almost daily in my life. Sometimes they come from people I love, like friends or family, and other times from people I share a lot of time with, like coworkers. …


I have a thousand reasons to hate decision making

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Photo by Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash

The first time I rented a movie was in the now extinct Blockbuster store. In those years, it was common to go to the store on a Friday night, stroll through the aisles and choose one of several options.

Choosing a movie was about a few minutes of walking, moving between aisle and aisle, between section and section, from comedy to horror, and maybe even running into a friend at the store. There was also an area where there were candy and popcorn and little things from movies to buy, like stuffed animals, or key chains. …

About

Paolo Monet

Writer and visual artist.

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