Too much

I talked too much,
for whenever I was quiet
you said something was wrong,
as if my existence was bound to my words
and to the little spaces
between breathing and speaking.

I laughed too much,
for whenever I was quiet
you said something was wrong,
as if I was a puppet of happiness
and I danced to the rythm
of everyone’s well-being.

I cried too much,
for whenever I was quiet
you said something was wrong,
as if my tears were the only proof of a crying heart,
and the way I grasped for air
was my way to say sorry.

But sometimes,
silence became the only language
I knew how to speak.
Sometimes, when you were far,
I forgot that there were words to say,
and stories to laugh at,
and songs to cry to.

Sometimes my heart ached
for you to call
and say that something was wrong.

Jehona Thaqi ©

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To my husband

I write
whenever I am miserable
and my heart cries in silence
for the empty seats of love within me,
when my mind is heavy
with unsaid words 
and negativity towards itself
– then my hand starts writing 
the most beautiful and tragical poems
I could ever think of.

But today I am writing 
out of happiness and love,
with no empty seats left
– a crowd that has come to witness 
the most magical moment of all.

Today I am breathing
– in and out,
slowly inhaling the sweet scent of your skin;
and exhaling in utter calmness
all problems that we have learned to forget with the passing of time.

Today I am content
with everything there is
and with everything there has ever been.

Jehona Thaqi© thank you, husband


Tulip

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Tulips grow out of my skin
with roots tangling around this body I once called prison.
To this day, whenever I despise my beating heart,
I remind myself that flowers grow within the cracks of my skin,
inbetween dark and hollow spots,
where once was nothing but grief.
I remind myself that bleeding is healing
and that the tears I cried have been the cleaning rain for my soul.
I remind myself that tulips do not grow
without the cold breeze of winter;
and so do I.
For I have been growing out of pain,
and I will survive each winter to bloom again.

Jehona Thaqi© you will not destroy me

Oblivious

I was oblivious of life;

for too many heart-breaks had marked my body,

and I speak of the heart-breaks of a woman; a warrior,

who protected her soul with silence

but whose silence has been broken by understanding

that a woman’s tongue will not be tied to the dreams of men.

I was oblivious of happiness,

for too many tears had drowned my laughter,

the tears of a losing warrior,

but war will not be over unless this soul flees my body,

and even then, when I rest underneath the earth,

I will leave the tomb as dust 

and remind you of the power a woman carries within;

a woman who has been opressed

but never silenced.

I was oblivious of my strength,

the strenght of a woman;

I was a prisoner to my fears,

but today I will destroy the chains tied among my soul,

I will be free,

and concious of everything I have.

Jehona Thaqi©

Falling silence

Did you count the times you left me

weeping and sobbing into the cussions,

grabing your arms in order to hold on

to what seemed impossible to keep,

while my body ached and you could hear

the bones cracking, eyes closing,

silence falling.

Did you count the times you left me

helplessly calling your name,

asking you to turn back and hold on

to what seemed impossible to keep,

while your body walked straight out of the room,

feet clicking, doors closing,

silence falling.

Did you count the times you left me

speechless, stuck inbetween thoughts and reality,

I stared at you in order to hold on

to what seemed impossible to keep,

my eyes burning in agony of losing

what was never really mine;

tell me, did you count the times

you left me

bluntly and silent,

you left me

broken and helpless,

you left me

filled with love and sadness

and full of empty hopes.

You left me and I could hear the silence fall upon my ribs,

so unbearably loud

it made me breathe heavily;

so tell me,

did you count the times

you left;

for I have counted all the times

you came back.

Jehona Thaqi©

Ashes

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My skin smells of smoke
reminding me of how they lit my dreams to flames
and let them burn to ashes.

They have dragged my soul through mud
drenching every inch of it with pain,
while their evil laughter echoed throughout my body.

I hear their voices in dreams of mine,
talking quietly to me upon how I was never enough,
comparing me to rotten flowers in mid october.

Back then, when they lit my dreams to flames,
I was too small to comprehend their satanic words,
but today I can still smell the scent of my burned skin.

You see, the ashes have been the fertilizer for the flower I have become,
it made me grow in depth, with heavy roots and vivid leaves.
But there are days where I feel like drowning,
nights in which I can still hear their sad voices,
moments of despair and fear.

It is in moments like these
in which I float in the darkest of my memories
like a lost pearl in the wide and bobbing sea.

But I am still shining.

Jehona Thaqi ©

Dear G.,

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I have written your name inside of my wrists,
even if new hands will hold me
they will never be able to reach you.

I have hidden our history underneath my tongue,
I will not speak of you, but I will always taste the sweetness
of what we once had.

I have left a part of you in my heart;
it has grown roots so strong that even after years of solitude
I can still feel them moving against my heartbeat.

I have named the universe after you
as only your name would come close
to the explosive and unexplainable mystery above our heads.

You see, you will never leave this heart of mine,
even if you are already gone.

Jehona Thaqi © notes I took while sitting in your favorite café

Questions of a broken spirit

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A friend of mine asked me
how it was possible that love
can diminish so fast.
She wanted to know
where all the butterflies have gone to
and if they had landed safely upon the ribs of love.
She wondered if the roots are strong enough,
or if there is nothing more to it
than flowers that will sooner or later die,
when winter arrives.

Her eyes seemed weak, almost dead,
eventhough her voice was stable
and her face always radiant.
She had given love when there was nothing left for herself,
she has sacrificed her mellow lips
for burning tongues and sharp teeth.
It broke me to see her understand
that sometimes people leave while staying,
but what could I do?
What more could I say than
time will pass, and you will blossom again.

Jehona Thaqi©

Lost wars

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The blisters upon her soft skin,
from all the lost wars within herself,
made her understand that lost wars can be victorious.
Let me tell you this,
despite her failures, she was magic.

She believed that she could see stardust in a full-moon’s night.
She believed that her eyes were made of sparkles and glitter
and that the galaxy lies within them.

So why did it matter that she was merely a girl
within a world so cruel.
As long as she believed;
there was nothing to break her permanently.

Jehona Thaqi©