A blend of prose and poetry, diary and thoughts on life, universe and all in between.
Come, come, my love,
Do not fear my warmth.
Come with the night breeze,
With wine and some bread,
Come on a wishing star,
Bring us some light.
I want to see your eyes
Sparkling beside me,
I want to taste that wine
Still on your lips.
We’ll feed the bread to the birds,
For we will be sated.
Alenka H., 2021
Don’t speak.
Do not complain.
Don’t speak.
It’s simple and plain
Don’t speak.
Just hide your pain.
Don’t speak.
You don’t have a say.
Don’t speak.
Stay out of way.
Don’t speak.
Who cares what you feel?
Don’t speak.
You’re not the only one here.
Don’t speak.
Your voice is annoying.
Don’t speak.
You don’t listen enough.
Don’t speak.
Just go away.
Don’t speak.
…
Where are you now?
Alenka H., 2023
Love,
I don't know how to do it. How to go on. How to live.
Each time it just cuts deeper. Have I told you lately how much I miss you?
I was left alone too many times.
I am, as I was,
no-one's
I was really angry. Mad. Furious. The nuclear destruction level angry.
Sure, I get annoyed and irritated, but to get me that angry, you have to work hard. And the reward is not insignificant. I am a creator and destroyer, and me being angry is something all that know me should be (and mostly are) afraid of.
I’m not proud of that part of me. But I’ve learned to accept it. Work with it. I play fair. I give warnings in advance. I tell when I’m getting angry. I go away and ask for time and space when I get there, to calm down. So, honestly, if anyone is stupid enough to ignore my warnings and my plead to leave me alone, I don’t feel guilty if my anger hits them.
It seemed that day that every turn I took I was confronted. Irritated. Looking back I still don’t see it as something exaggerated.
Of course, my anger was, as anger usually is, just a cover up for other emotions. Feeling betrayed. Disappointed. Treated badly. All that and much more. Anger came out of that.
I did not yell. I did not get aggressive. Oh, but I was snarky. I wasn’t quiet. It was written on my face and heard in my words and my voice. And I was fuming inside. My inner monologue was filled with words that would make drunk sailor blush.
Did it change anything? No. Did it make me feel better? Nope.
At night I thought about it all… and anger left me. I understood where it came from. I also understood my part of responsibility, and what I could do now and what I don’t do.
Anger left. The feelings that triggered it didn’t. I saw them. I’m no saint and I can not forget it all… Especially when it is piling up for a long time. Especially when instead of resolving it only gets worse and worse. I’m only human. I get hurt and when wounds are too deep, I’m left with scars. Therefore, anger might have left, but hurt remained.
And instead of feeling better it left me empty. Dead. Burned out. Anger was hot, and I was alive. Now I just gave up. Shut out. Closed up. Not angry anymore. But not alive either.
Alenka H., 2021
There are so many things I want to say to you.
I wish to tell you how I hurt.
I want to share my silent days and lonely nights.
I want to say I’m cold and sad.
There are words and tears I want to share.
I long to tell you all my silly dreams
and how I still remember all our songs.
I want to tell you how I need someone,
I want to tell you how I miss you.
Not anyone. You.
The words are caught in my throat,
bitter and sharp and sour.
They block my air and stop my heart,
they ask, demand to be said.
Yet I’m silent and not telling a word.
Saying and not being listened to would hurt even more.
Alenka H., 2021
Take all away from me,
and it will preserve inside of me.
Give me the world,
and I will get nothing.
When I’ll drink up all of you,
then…
Maybe in inebriation I will forget
that I’m drinking poison.
Alenka H., 2000-2010, translation
Love,
I've learned a valuable lesson from you: telling someone you miss them is like pouring salt on your wound.
Well, perhaps saying I've learned it is not the truth. I should say that I'm still learning it. I'm trying. I've said it again, you see. Sometimes I forget. Will I ever learn?
yours
What is this between us?
Hate, friendship,
Affection, love,
Or just the passion of two bodies
Whose souls want to
Run away?
We are so close
When there are distances between us…
And so far apart, when we are
Side by side,
So we could touch…
Yet we don’t dare to.
I know why we drink together.
Because we both deny,
And only when we are drunk,
When we at least think that
The other one is drunk too,
We dare –
Touch, hug, kiss…
And more!
And then it is gone… all?
I don’t dare to break
This silence between us –
I’m too afraid
You are not denying
What I am.
Alenka H., 2005-2010, translation
After every day
I need a day
just to get over
the day I just survived
and to gather new strength
to face another one.
It’s exhausting.
Alenka H., 2023
Where are you, my love?
I turned every stone,
searching for you.
It’s autumn…
Perhaps you are hiding
below piles of leafs
of colours that burn?
Maybe, when spring comes,
you will return.
Cold, lonely winter
is coming to me.
Alenka H., 2021
Love, I sense us slowly drifting apart. It hurts me. I hurt each moment I miss you. Sometimes it was hard to breathe. This pain now... the pain of loosing you... the pain of distance growing between us... it's different. It's not so sharp. It doesn't feel like a knife in my heart. It's like a lump in my throat. It's like my lungs can't expand. It's like slowly dying... yours
Love, I'm listening to same old songs over and over again. I wish you were beside me. I met someone. He makes me feel what I felt with you, before your absence was too overwhelming. I am afraid. Will I miss him the same? How much more missing can my heart take? yours
Love,
there is a part of me that tells me I made mistake each time, because I wanted too much, and gave too much.
But there is another part of me, and this part wonders. What good is giving, if we don't give it all? What good is love, if we don't love completely? What good is life, if we don't live it fully?
Tell me, Love... Which part is right?
yours
Love,
I will always love you. Maybe not the same as I do now, but I will. But, just maybe someday someone could love me back, and I'll love him too.
A part of me, however, will always be
yours
Love,
sometimes I think you know. You know how desperately I'm waiting for each moment with you. You know how lonely I get without you. You know I try so hard to break this bond that only hurts me. You know I know you never see me as I see you. And you know I'm still standing in the shadows, hoping that perhaps one day you'll choose me.
And I don't get angry at you for knowing. I get angry at myself, because it doesn't change a thing. I'm still
yours