Heart for Sale

Wounded heart for sale.
It’s stopped believing,
but it’s still huge and caring.
May fall in love easily,
but at times is incapable of loving.
It is wounded and it aches,
but still beating.
Fragile: please treat with care.

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An Apology

We’re not perfect
Do you ever wonder why we’re holding on to this anger?
I haven’t forgotten what we’re fighting for
But I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth it anymore.

I want the you I used to know back
I’m not willing to forget, just willing to forgive
Or is it the other way around?

All I can think is how short life can be
This is pointless
We’re not getting any younger;
let’s pick up where we left off
Let’s start a new dance,
let’s write a new song.

Do we want to get older and
regret it for the rest of our lives?
So many what-ifs that I don’t want to try
But this, I think is right.

The thought that we may never speak again kills me
And I’ll accept it if we don’t, as tough as it may be.
Now all that can save us is a good deed
An apology won’t fix it all, but, baby, it’s all I need.

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Artist meets artist, and one is not amused

I was waiting for my laundry, minding my own business, sketching a masterpiece on my iPad, when this guy walked up and asked, “Are  you interested in listening to my Hip Hop CD?” He, or a friend of his, is an “upcoming artist” apparently and he was distributing their music. I wasn’t interested because, after seeing the cover image — a big-booty woman on all fours wearing a g-string… — I thought, more of the same. (If you’ve seen mainstream hip hop videos, you know what kind of images I’m talking about).

Well, he stuck around despite my rejection, and he was a Curious George.

“So what are you doing? You’re doing homework or something?” he asked.

“Just playing on my iPad.”

He leaned forward and peeked. He peeked! Rude!

“You’re an artist or something?”

“Ha ha,” I laughed. Haha “No, I’m just killing time.”

“Let me see…that looks pretty good!”

Gosh, no. He was just hitting on me, right? Had to be; my illustrations are pretty bad! He went on, questioning if I didn’t believe in myself, if I had no support system. Then, he insinuated I was just a young girl trying to find herself.

“What are you going to school for?”

“I already graduated.”

“Really? What did you study?”

“Spanish,” I said. “With a concentration in International Studies,” I quickly added, especially after seeing the look of disbelief in his face. It is the look I get from everyone who knows I’m a native Spanish-speaker, but who ignores the reason that I chose that major. (Hint: last-minute decision.)

Even though it can be a little upsetting when people feel that they have a say on your career choices, it was an eye-opening what this guy was trying to say. I’m not too good at letting “loose” around strangers, thus I didn’t give him much of my time. I laughed out of nervousness, but he was one of the only people ever to say that my sloppy sketches didn’t look too bad.

It is a lesson to us all that we have the power to inspire!


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