Neurodivergent and proud (poems by Marcella Boccia)

Love does not save me, but it holds me (Marcella Boccia) Love does not come to rescue mefrom the depths of my soul’s tempest—it does not offer its hands,glowing like stars above the chaos. No, love does not save. But it holds me,tenderly,in the way shadows hold the earthwhen the sun has gone to rest. It does not extinguish the firesthat burn within me,nor still the storm in my chest—it watches,qui...

Screams suffocated in pillows (Marcella Boccia) Beneath the weight of dreams,I scream—a sound swallowed by the hollow night,a cry that never escapes my throat,its edges sharp like broken glass,but muffled, lost in the softness of a lie. In the silence of my room,where the walls are made of shadows,I am crushed by the weight of my own breath,each inhale a struggle,each exhale a surrender to the dar...

Dying and reborn in the same hour (Marcella Boccia) In the hour when the sky bleeds into the earth,I die—not in the silence of a distant night,but in the trembling breath of dawn,where life and death make love,their bodies woven in the threads of shadows. I die in the arms of a memory,one too fragile to hold,its weight a river that cannot be crossed,its waters too bitter to drink. The past pours o...

In the arms of nothingness (Marcella Boccia) I lay myself down in the arms of nothingness,where shadows breathe like lovers,and silence carves its name into my soul. The void holds me close,its cold fingers trailing along my spine,each touch a whisper of the world undone. No stars hang in the sky,no moon to guide my sorrow,only the weight of empty promisesthat echo through the chambers of my heart...

Poetry keeps me alive (Marcella Boccia) Poetry is the breath I stealfrom the silence of the earth,a thief who robs the night of its secrets,and leaves me trembling,naked in the light of unsung stars. It is the fire I drink,its heat turning my veins to flame,until my skin crumbles into ash—and I rise again,reborn in words that echo in the shadows. Poetry keeps me alive,when the world falls silent,w...

The day I got lost (Marcella Boccia) The day I got lost, the sky turnedits face away, no longer blue,the clouds wrapped their bodies in the scent of ash,whispering secrets only the wind could hear. I wandered, not knowing where to go,but feeling each step echo through me,as if my feet were tracing forgotten roadswhere names had been erased long ago. The earth beneath me was a stranger’s touch,cold...

Drinking darkness in small sips (Marcella Boccia) I drink the darkness in small sips,savored like wine from a shattered glass,its bitter taste a quiet kissupon the lips of a haunted past. The moon bleeds a pale, tired light,casting shadows that twist and crawl,whispering secrets to the night,secrets I cannot recall. In the hollow of my chest,a storm brews, silent and fierce,I cradle my soul in its...

Invisible scars (Marcella Boccia) The silence hums beneath my skin,a thousand whispers stitched to bone,echoes of wars only I have fought,blades of memories I have not known. I carry scars that no one sees,etched not in flesh, but in the mind,where shadows paint with tender easethe stories that were left behind. The world looks at me and wonders whymy smile trembles like the autumn leaves,but it d...

I am not my pain (Marcella Boccia) I am not my pain,though it has worn me like a second skin,etched in the deep lines of my face,woven through the silence between my breaths. It has touched my bones,taught my heart to breakwith the precision of a forgotten lover's kiss,but I am not its prisoner. I am not the scarsthat mark my flesh like a mapof every war I’ve fought within—each one a victory,each...

Hands that shake, mind that screams (Marcella Boccia) My hands tremble,as though they hold the weight of the worldin their bones,a tremor passed downfrom the shadows of my ancestors,their silence echoing in the pulse of my skin. They shake in rhythms I cannot break,as if the air itself conspires to pull them apart,to scatter my soul like dust to the winds. The mind,oh the mind,it screams,a fire th...

Sometimes I want to sleep forever (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 Sometimes, I want to sleep forever—to let the weight of the world slip off my bones,to sink into the stillness of a dreamwhere time dissolvesand I am no longer boundby the aches of waking. In the dark, I stretch my hands toward silence,toward the soft, unspoken lullabyof an empty sky. I long to be nothing,a shadow caught in the twilight,a thou...

Surviving my shifts (Marcella Boccia) I shift through hours like a ghost,passing through spaces that hold no weight,where the clock is a thief,stealing minutes that dissolvebefore I can taste them. The air is thick with waiting,with words that never reach my lips,like smoke held in the lungsof a broken promise. I swallow them whole,letting them burn their way downinto places too dark to remember....

The void that tastes like me (Marcella Boccia) There is a silence in meso vast,it consumes the stars—a gaping mouth,hungry for what cannot be found. It tastes like dust,like the ash of a dreamforgotten in the heat of waking. I reach into it,fingers trembling,but the void has no form,no edges to grasp. It is a weightless thing,like a shadow without a body,like a breath that never leavesbut refuses...

A night without skin (Marcella Boccia) I walk the earth tonight,bare,stripped of the fleshthat once held me together,a trembling silhouette in the dark,where the moon is a questionand the stars burn like unspoken secrets. There is no skin to shield me now—no walls to guard the heart,no breath to pull me back from the edge. I am all raw,all exposed,a wound that has learned to whisper. The air is co...

Beyond black and white (Marcella Boccia) There is a world that lies beyond the edgesof black and white,where shadows stretch like hungry rivers,and the sun does not rise or fall,but hangs in the air like a question,unanswered, suspended. We are born into it,this land of unspoken truths,where the lines we draware never straight,and the colors we seekmelt into the dusk,no longer separate,but one,in...

The days I disappear (Marcella Boccia) There are days when I am no longer me,when my skin wears thin like paper,and my bones tremble beneath the weightof a world that calls but cannot reach. I slip through the cracks of time,my breath swallowed by the silence of forgotten things. I disappear into the shadow of my own name,where even the stars grow tired of lighting my path. The mirror breaks benea...

Love that becomes fire (Marcella Boccia) Once, it was a whisper,soft as silk,a murmur in the shadowed corners of the heart,caressing the edges of doubtwith the gentleness of a breeze. It spoke in the language of light,and I listened—I listened to its sweetness,believing it was enough. But love, when it chooses to burn,does not ask for permission. It ignites from within,turning the flesh to tinder,...

Nameless rage (Marcella Boccia) It is not the fury of a storm,raging in the belly of the sky,nor the crack of thunder breaking the bones of the night. It is quieter,a flame that eats the soul from the inside,turning breath to smoke,soul to ash. I carry it in the hollow of my chest,where once there was room for love,now only the gnawing hunger of rage. It is nameless—unspoken—and yet it howls like...

Letters to a burning land (Marcella Boccia) I write to you with hands stained in dusk,fingers trembling with the weight of ash. The sky is no longer sky—it is a wound split open, spilling fire into the bones of the earth. What words survive in the mouth of ruin? What verses can be born from the throat of war? I have only this ink, heavy as blood,only these letters, scattered like bonesin the silen...

The tears of mothers (Marcella Boccia) They do not fall like rain,wild and reckless upon the earth. No, they descend in silence,one by one,like forgotten prayers slipping from trembling lips. They salt the cradle of the dead,bathe the wounds time dares not touch,carve rivers into withered handsthat once traced lullabieson sleeping brows. A mother’s tears do not dry. They turn to stone,to shadow,to...

The scent of fear (Marcella Boccia) It does not smell of fire,nor of gunpowder curling in the air. It is not the acrid breath of burning homes,nor the sharp sting of metal and blood. No—fear smells of something softer,something slower,like damp earth before a storm,like the last trace of perfume on a vanished wrist,like the skin of a child pressed against silence. It clings to the folds of the win...

Blood in the snow (Marcella Boccia) The first snowfall came like a hush,soft as a prayer left unsaid,covering the streets in a quiet so deepeven grief seemed to sleep beneath it. But the earth remembers. It drinks red where white once lay,where footprints vanishbut wounds remain. Somewhere, a mother calls a namethat will not answer. Somewhere, a hand too small to hold a gunis clenched around absen...

Children who no longer play (Marcella Boccia) Once, their laughter was light,spilling like marigolds across the courtyards,hands clapping, feet chasing shadowstoo swift to be caught. Now the streets are mute,hollowed by the hush of abandoned games. The air is heavy with things unsaid,with echoes of names never called home again. They have learned the language of sirens,the rhythm of distant gunfir...

Explosions in the heart (Marcella Boccia) 🎧 English There are wars no one sees,battles waged in the hollows of ribs,where silence is both weapon and wound,where love and loss burn in the same fire. I have walked through streets that echo gunfire,where the sky collapses into smoke,where the air carries the scent of endings,and yet—it is not the bombs that shatter me,but the quiet after,the way gri...

Dust and prayers (Marcella Boccia) The evening bends like a tired beggar,draped in the hush of unsaid words. Dust rises from the earth in soft laments,whispers of footsteps long vanished,of hands that once built and destroyed,of names carried away by the wind. Prayers hang in the air,weightless as candle smoke,climbing unseen toward a silent sky. Do the heavens listen, I wonder,or do they only col...