Increased Volume Of Cervical Mucus

you where I put the remains of the urn,
the ashes of my defeat, my heart rests
where fearless,
when sleep takes off his mask and showed his more
Black fears.

You are the mirror of my eyes,
where the reflection of what is left of me
new contours. You
the urn of my lifeblood,
held by
not make it
wealth of bad eyes,
judges part.

you the shelter that I see in the dark


after wandering for hours in the middle of the woods howling,
after fighting an Amazon

against the windmills of my worst nightmares.

Collect my tears with your care that

become crystals.
Give way to my vague memories,
scars of wounds never closed, removed and renewed

to be processed by your alchemy

butterflies in silver. Receive


the soul that quivers with hatred and burning anger

in your arms,
collect my fragile errors.
You are my home,
are my strength.

Eva