Let the rain come
Let it pour.
Little musical water drops.
Life dripping down the window pane.

Come rain.
Be my home
Lift me.
Soak me.
Drown me.

Come rain.
Be my heart.
Clean me.
Love me.
Hug me.

Let the rain come.
Let the cold in.
Freeze my home.
Freeze my heart.
Let me sleep.

Come rain.
Let me love you.
Let me breathe you.
Breathe me.
Find me.

It’s pouring outside
It’s pouring inside
So much dirt.
So much pain.

Let the rain come.
Take it all away.
Take me away.

(Take me away)

(Take me away)

Come rain, old friend.
Come, let me love you.
I’ve been waiting for you.
Your cold embrace
Your icy kiss.

Take me away rain.
I want nothing more.
But to pour.
But to breathe.
But to live.

(But to live)

(But to live)

(But to live)



Flower in the wind

I am passionately in love with life, but today… I feel sad.

Can I be vocal about my sadness? Wait! Are we allowed to feel sad?

Blue feelings, more than happy ones, remind us that we are alive and finite.

Unbearable beauty.

Delicious beauty.

Can I feel sad without your pity? I wish to be loud about my sadness. Will you be frightened by it?


(Warning: this is not Insta-worthy)

I feel sad, but I am not miserable. I feel sad, but I am not unhappy.

I have a wonderful life, but today… I feel sad.

Never-ending search.

Angry and quiet. Entertained and bored. Scared and brave. Introvert and extrovert. Tears and smiles.

Implosion. Headache. All at once. STOP!

Can I be open about my sadness? I scream but no words come out. I want to feel my sadness alone. I don’t want to feel my sadness alone.

To think too much. To feel too much. It hurts to think and feel. I love to think and feel. Pain. Move through pain. Look at it in the eyes. Hold its hand.

Implosion. Headache. Nosebleed. STOP!

Thoughts and feelings: cancelling each other since the beginning of time. (Is there a beginning of time?)

(I am the beginning of time)

(I am the end of time)

(I am floating in time)

(I am but a tunnel for time)

Invisible fragment.


Hi. My name is Nathalie and I am addicted to escapism.

(Drown feelings and thoughts with screens and virtual delusions)

(Scroll down. Refresh. Scroll down. Refresh. Feel accompanied. Be totally alone. Scroll down)

Note to self: convince yourself not to run away.

Can I tell you how I want to cut my hair and scratch my face when I hurt? Does it make you uncomfortable?

(Hug me!) Go away! (Hug me!) Leave me! (Hug me!) Don’t touch me! (Touch me!) Stay away! (Stay!)

I love life with every atom of my being.

Dear black hole in my stomach, selfish creature that spreads its dark nothingness all over. Gravitational pull attracting me towards infinite desperation, will you let me sleep? Will you let me breathe?


Sometimes I forget to breathe.

I love air.

I am wind.

Life goal: make more mistakes. I haven’t made many of those. I might me making a couple of horrible, irreversible ones as we speak. Good for me?


I need your hand at all times. I am your shoulder forever. I’m grateful for your love, your existence, your eyes, your words, your heart.

My face is covered in honey and tears. Physically. Literally.

The softness of a petal. The lick of my dog on my cheek. The touch of your arm as you walk by. The wind’s cold hand on my hair. The lilac and orange of dawn. The smell of coffee. The heartbeat of a loved one. The intensity of green after a rain. Thunder.

Salty water slips ever so slowly through the creases of my lips. Sweet taste of ocean.

Note to self: protect the little tenderness left in my childish heart.


Dear monsters, I see you. Living in my house, letting the cold in, breaking the mirrors, closing doors shut and hiding the key, turning off the lights, keeping me forever in the foggy darkness of fear. I see you. Will you let me in? Will you love me? Will I love you?

I will scrape all those dead cells from my body.


Tomorrow I will rise again… but today, I feel sad.

Tomorrow I will rise again… but today, I feel sad.

Tomorrow I will rise again… but today, I feel sad.

Tomorrow I will rise again… but today, I feel sad.

Tomorrow I will rise again.

The purpose of a flower

Do flowers become trees?
They shall fail.
The forest expects trees.
The flower has failed already
It’s younger self
It’s childhood dreams
It’s vision of a golden trunk,
with golden leaves.

Can a flower but stare?
There is a window
Not its window
Rather the eyes that see through it
And what it sees through it
And how it sees it all
And how no one else sees it like it does
And what it makes of what it sees.
It shall take comfort in that.

Does it do it to herself?
It does.
The flower is also the weed
The dryness
The dark
The chain
The scissor
The broken porcelain vase
The aimless arrow.

Is there a point to a flower?
To be born against all odds
To bloom.
To love the wind
To light up the garden
To feed the bees and butterflies
To wither in the blink of an eye
To survive the frost
To die overnight.

Shall it bloom in the darkness?
The void expands.
There is no garden
There is no rain
There’s too much rain
It’s cold in the shade
It burns in the sun.

Where will it live?
Let it live in a tree house
In a leaf
In a sunbeam
In a cloud
In a moor
In the abyss
By Orion’s Nebulae

Can a flower but be?
Bloom, flower.
Time is unrelenting
The forest will not wait
Before you wither.


Illustration by Edith Rewa

A Song of Opposites, by John Keats

“Under the flag
Of each his faction, they to battle bring
Their embryon atoms.” – Milton

WELCOME joy, and welcome sorrow,
Lethe’s weed and Hermes’ feather;
Come to-day, and come to-morrow,
I do love you both together!
I love to mark sad faces in fair weather;
And hear a merry laugh amid the thunder;
Fair and foul I love together.
Meadows sweet where flames are under,
And a giggle at a wonder;
Visage sage at pantomine;
Funeral, and steeple-chime;
Infant playing with a skull;
Morning fair, and shipwreck’d hull;
Nightshade with the woodbine kissing;
Serpents in red roses hissing;
Cleopatra regal-dress’d
With the aspic at her breast;
Dancing music, music sad,
Both together, sane and mad;
Muses bright and muses pale;
Sombre Saturn, Momus hale; –
Laugh and sigh, and laugh again;
Oh the sweetness of the pain!
Muses bright, and muses pale,
Bare your faces of the veil;
Let me see; and let me write
Of the day, and of the night –
Both together: – let me slake
All my thirst for sweet heart-ache!
Let my bower be of yew,
Interwreath’d with myrtles new;
Pines and lime-trees full in bloom,
And my couch a low grass-tomb.

Posthumous and fugitive Poems


The dimming lights

Before the lights leave completely
The city shines as if innocent.
Concrete seem harmless
Streets are empty
Only a hum.
Cars, screams, anger.

Nothing but air.

Rain has been falling.
Lovingly falling
Over the city.
Covering it with a sweet silver blanket.
That shimmers under the leaving lights.
It welcomes the resonance of blackness
The brightness of blackness
The temptation of blackness.

What creeps there in the shadows?
I hear it breathing
Without a blink
Its ears pressed
Waiting behind the line
The thin line where my lamp shines no more.
There it dwells and grows
Gruesome figure
Skin decomposing
The stench..

I felt safe just a minute ago
Watching the lights leave
Marveled by the shimmer
Seduced by the softness of the sky.
The cold wind knew
He hugged me and knew
That he would leave me
To fight the night alone
To face the demons alone
To shiver on my bed alone.

If only I could sleep
Let myself sleep
Leave my body to its mercy
Let my dreams own me
Let the night own me
Flood me
Be me.

The last sunbeams leave the city
Oh, the colors!
The glow!
I loose myself.
The vastness
I feel it.
It feels me.
We flirt.
We kiss.
Our secret.


Foto: Nathalie M.


I Must get it out.
Out of my brain
My mouth
My fingers.

Out, I tell you!
The helplessness
Of not being able
Of barely touching
Of almost screaming
Almost saying
Almost letting go
So close.

Not close enough
To satisfy me.
This appetite for emotion
This need for feeling
To feel as strong,
As Intensely as my thoughts
As my hand in a fist
As my anger towards me
Towards what I see of me
In what I hate
I the ones I hate.

I shiver
When faced with instinct.
How I envy you!
Action without reason
Feeling without guilt.
Spilling out guts and brain
Words and tears
Until there is nothing
But silence.
An everlasting ease
Peace of mind
Heart beat.

Stripped to the bone
Put back together again
Nothing left but skin
And nowhere else to hide.

I stood in the presence of instinct
Just the other night.
It didn’t look me in the eye
It showed itself through color
Pure and bare.
I felt small.
Reason creeping in
Self control

Is everything organized?
Are my shirts color-coded?
Can I tell you what to do?
Please do everything my way.
I’ll go crazy otherwise.
The chaos inside my head
Is somewhat blinding
It makes no sense
I cannot think.

Instinct tells me to scream
Reason tells me to hold it.


The touch of rain  

Even now, through all this rain
My eyes see no clearer
My breath reaches no further.
The tip of my nose
The scale of my sight.

The experience of warmth
I feel it
Briskly through my fingers
On my tongue.
On the drops that slide down my cheek
To my pillow
To the floor
Where they become nothing
Not even a dream of growth
The spur of an eventual flower
Fragile and ephemeral
A laugh
A thought
A bit of pain
Afflicted, welcome, received.
Not quantifiable
A spoonful of mistakes
A cup of good intentions.

It rains thunder
Over the greyness of the city
Over its doubts and secrets.
Nice, cold, fresh blanket.
Icy caress.
That of a giver of life
Disguised as an undertaker.

My backyard grows savagely
Clouds dance savagely
It all makes sense
This very minute of chaos
Of universal movement
A moment of life
Logical, stupid, passionate.

It makes sense for the rain.
It makes sense for my eyes
That see the rain pour
Who want to be that drop in free fall
The moment it hits the leaves
The road
A naked body
A word screamed
With all its might.

Still I am not wet
I don’t get wet
Watching from afar.
Dreaming from afar
That I will come close
And get lost
And be cold
And be storm
Be one with it
Dance with it
No ceremony
No expectations.
Just a moment
In the chaos.

Leave me alone world!
Don’t leave me!
Show me.
I desire nothing but to be wind and rain.