She had survived
an earthquake
and a war,
a tsunami
and a plane crash,
ten years in jail
and an open-heart surgery.

At least that's what she looked like,
just before she met him.

But since he hurt her,
destroyed her self-esteem,
she could not bear
with the emptiness of her life.

Her wounds wouldn't heal
in an unresponsive body
and her days were grey,
made of failure and delay.

Repeated trauma
had worn her out
and her nights were the disease
that she could not fight.


I saw her,
the neighbor,
from a dirty window
in your smelly old apartment,
while you were carelessly asleep.

That day, her tragic life
cast an intense light on mine,
her acceptance and death,
nourished my reaction.

Under the heavy rain,
my fears of you were washed away,
as I saw her naked body,
motionless on the floor.

Her face was hidden in a pillow
and that forced me to uncover mine.

I understood:
I could do nothing
to bring her back to life,
but I could do something
to get away from you.