Mari Sánchez Cayuso

Tag: Existential Poetry

  • Locked

    I left my keys
    in the lock
    all night

    then spent the morning
    looking for them.

    Are you dissociating
    like me

    or have we all
    started leaving
    before we go?

  • Existential

    There are days
    when I cannot tell
    if I am living my life
    or simply standing inside it.

    Sometimes I need
    the weight of ordinary things—

    the counter beneath my hand
    the floor holding me up.

    I have loved people
    who made me question
    whether love was
    something we entered
    or something we survived.

    I have stood inside happiness
    and already mourned it.

    Maybe that is the
    terrifying beauty of it—

    to know something is alive
    and already feel
    the shape of its absence.