She was a love poem stuck in a chrysalis, waiting for the perfect deep, unconditional love that her naked soul truly desires. She wanted to be a sonnet that when read could make someone fall into the most intimate, splendid romance, like wearing winter clothes; covering and warming up the body of your cold bone. Holding an intention of being a thought that is beautiful only if it is naked beneath language, she dreams of a poetry that happens when nothing else can. They say that the souls of poets cannot keep quiet because, when they were alive, they never wrote the poems they wanted to. But “She” is a rebel, have always been; who wants nothing but to write down her raw emotions in the most heartbreakingly beautiful way that even her pain gets envied by people that read her.
She believes in being a poet in all moments of life because being a poet means being human to her, filled with time and again with a heart-aching wonder. Holding a pen as light in that dark hidden passage, she is making a pathway through ink to show her readers the dance of her life which is covered with the dust of silence, grief, struggles, heartbreaks, memories, fights and dead stilettos of past fossils. She is a poetess turning silence into eloquence, weaving a smiling lie, a whirlwind, easy to enter, but hard to escape; a love poem- the most dangerous weapon.
