Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

Stolen Identity

Despairingly, I spoke of your despairing disparity

of ten years lost in translation

of playing hide and seek with your past


all of this is

a winter slowly dying

a woman still questioning

if her heart has been fooled ;


stealing stolen identies

to steal away the pain

of losing who you once were before

identity stolen





to lose



to love.

-Eva M.M.

Thanks as always for stopping by and for your continual love and support of my writing.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”


Posted in life, Poems, thoughts


This time of year the snow men sneak out

and manifest themselves as smiling gentlemen clothed in white.

This time of year everything becomes frosted

with the chill of winter, the silence of huddled and rare warmth.

This time of year


migrate to my bed

and pull the covers up over my eyes

to hibernate until the frigidness passes…

This time this year– I am finally learning the meaning of the word Winter;


You don’t know what cold is until it is all that you are.

-Eva M.M.


I think winter is finally settling in where I am at least and so I thought it appropriate to share this poem with you. Also, I have been going through a rough patch lately and of course the whether reflects that for me in a very concrete way.Despite that and the fact I have never been a winter person. I am going to stay all bundled up reading now that I am almost done with finals. I hope you all stay warm and enjoy some good books ( and 1withthepen!) If you are new here I always welcome questions,comments and feedback. Love you all my little ink angels. BYE!

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”


Posted in life, philiosophy, Poems, thoughts

Ma mère ( with audio)

You braved the world

and lost it

You loved your life

and watched it


fade from view

blurred glass

and foggy hearts

and, after all, that cord was severed eighteen years ago.

Nothing comes as a surprise to me anymore.

You will live for you

and I will live




feel I never had much of a choice

except to love you

for everything I





I am watching it,

loving life

and losing myself

in this brave new world.

-Eva M.M.


Background music in Audio: Sky Dancing: Patrick Watson

Audio Link to listen to my reading: My reading

” The pen and I, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”








Posted in life, Poems, thoughts, Uncategorized

Rag doll ( The poem version) With audio link.

Ragdoll ( The Poem)

Flies buzz around the curdled milk

and I am still cradling my head against my chest,

curled up in a ball

on the stained, eight toned carpet

across from your angry eyes.
Last night was worse:

Your hands against my flank,

digging in and dragging through,

channels that branded me yours.

And your vulgar vulture breath

against the back of my spine

sent shudders slithering through.
Curl deeper,

little rag doll,

bow your head and scream.
Breath slowly,

tattered rag doll,

and maybe you won’t die.
At the end of the day

a rag doll



– Eva M.M.

Posted in life, Poems, thoughts


This silence is deathly,

the chasm between you and I

seems to be ever growing…

your silence is smothering me

and my words lay flat on the page

forgotten by your eyes.

Forgotten by your heart?




once brave and bold flower




Yet towards you 

still remains


-Eva M.M.

Posted in Poems, thoughts




bones taste like victory

like the rush and blur of winning the game

or the moment right after you shoot your first game,

the still echo of a bullet shredding through flesh .

Is that how it felt 

to hold my head down


put dead flesh to youth?

i say

victory tastes like forgetting

the rush and blur of innocence lost

and the moment right after his eyes lose their bloodied gloss,

the still echo of whimpering women.

– Eva M.M.

Thank you for stopping by and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments. 

Posted in life, Poems, thoughts


I want 

to get drunk on espressos

in tiny slanted street cafés.

Lose myself


your hushed voice that once

read poetry to me and

wrote sonnets on my heart.
I want to

want you





but time has turned my blood to gel

and the frost is gathering on the windows,

from you only silence

for you only sorrow .

– Eva M.M.
Thanks for stopping by and commenting. I always welcome constructive critism or just thoughts on my writing. 

“Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”