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The most beautiful thing for me. by (3 Stories)

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It took me a while to post about her. Because sometimes when you love someone with such a power, you are doing in silence, without sharing.

The most beautiful things in life don’t have a price. We can’t buy them. We can’t see them. It is more an ability to embrace a feeling from the root of your own heart. Once we understand this, we can count more things that bring beautiful aspects of our everyday lives.

If someone ever asks me, what is the most beautiful thing in my life? I’ll say, is not a thing, not a place, is my own creature. I made it, and God, I never knew that will come in such a perfect shape.

On 08-18-2017, I gave birth to the most amazing, beautiful, sensitive, inspirational, and magical girl. My daughter, Emily. I call her a gift of love. I never stop telling her how much I love her. I love her when she wakes up at night when she looks for my hand to massage her when she cries when she wants 24 hours in my arms. I love her when I am extremely tired. I love her when she laughs when we dance, when she started walking, talking. I love her unconditionally, and I don’t ever want it back.

The first time when I saw her, it was magical, a combination of pain and happiness. A combination of reincarnation. God was touching my soul. I felt that at this moment I either die or become stronger. I created magic on earth and hurts. After that, it wasn’t me anymore, it was US since the day she came to this world. I felt that her skin is my skin, her soul is a piece from mine, her heart is what I live for. She is the one that knows it all, how I am from the inside. My eyes were the only shape of the sea she saw for the first time. I knew it, I had to make it all magical. Since then, I never stopped smiling and praying at night.

She is my world. I never knew that it can ever feel this way. She is beyond beautiful, she is a ray of sunshine that never stops shine. She is a walking soul on this earth. Her innocent smile, the way she looks at things, the way she eats, the way she needs me three times per night, the way she wakes up in the morning. Her smell is a walking spring on my heart, I can’t get enough.

She is a drop of my reflection, a curly blonde hair, blue eyes that whole sky drown in it, and soft, soft skin. She is always happy, even if she falls. At this age she shows me that she is intelligent, she understands me and what I ask for. She is a strong, and super healthy baby. A little bigger for her age. She is what I call home, love, peace, beauty, soul. Every moment I have had with my daughter is precious. I take hours and hours to watch her, to admire her. A little human being is able to change my world, to give so much power, love, and beauty.

Right now, I am the moon and the stars to her. And her to me. She looks at me like I’m the smartest, most beautiful, amazing person she’s ever met. She is always looking for me, and how happy we are when after school or work we see each other again.

There is that kind of love in life, that it so much in your veins that you are afraid, so afraid to lose it. How to describe this kind of feeling? Because it’s an ocean of words, I didn’t learn how to swim yet.

Now, think again? Are the most beautiful things in the world things that you can buy, or visit, or own. It might be, we all are different. For me, is more a feeling, a powerful feeling that last forever, that feels even if you are not around, it is always in your mind. It’s my own creature, that I chose to make. It never stops to grow, and I am in charge to give the light, the love, and the wisdom.

I believe she is special, and I believe when she grows up when someone will ask her what are the most beautiful things in the world. She will know where to look, in her soul!

This November there seems to be nothing to say. by (3 Stories)

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November you are my favorite color. You are always the late folk that is unremembered. Cold but gentle. Some people don’t get your purpose. Because you are not for everyone.   You are the judge of fall. You are the look of hunger in a man with heat, is enough to lift an old woman from her knees. As a piece of confusion, he’s been looking for. He was declining to die, but now he’s coming back for more. The speculation of an old man when gets you apart, you can’t see what is coming, but there is a tree standing all stick and bones. You are a blind joke, which purpose is not to make you laugh. You are the saddest of the year. Of wailing winds, and naked woods with foggy air. You are the confusing echoes of people screaming and birds crying for homes. You are a closed window with fire in eyes. You are a weak heart of which injury was made back in spring when everything is born, and it blows in the summer, fulfilling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the coolness thunderstorms come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight when you need it most, it stops. What an old soul you are, barely can move but never wants to die.

This November there seems to be nothing to say.

Silence. by (3 Stories)

/ Stories

They said silence is gold…but they lied,
Silence is the reason you care, don’t deny!
Something up there is walking untold,
Something up there is walking powerfully broke.

It’s the slowest punishment,
It’s that echo that screams and you shout.
Silence takes more power than just some words
Silence breaks you apart, tears down, leave you lost.

Silence is the chills in your spine,
Quiet sensitive at night.
Don’t think silence can’t talk,

Empty clock.

Silence is saying what you afraid to say.

Silence is a chosen way.
She leaves you like a stone bone, ice soul, dry lips.
But wherever you walk, you leave your empty fingerprints.

How mad are your words inside of your veins?
There is a feeling inside, no one explains.
You want to scream out, you want to cry aloud.
Your soul looking at us, not quite proud

There is a blizzard inside of your heart, soon enough you’ll see,
Are you going ever to be free?
This silence is brooming everything you build so far,
Hold on on your weapon, I know silence makes you truly powerful for this war.

It takes a lot to just sit and look at how your fire burns everything inside of you.
I feel your cold. How hollow are you?
Yes, words can hurt us, don’t get me wrong.
But silence destroys us, and leave us stories untold.