Appreciated, discriminated Fascinated, aggravated Infatuated, humiliated Motivated, devastated; Words can’t express How much, the distress Feelings you can’t undress Become a bigger mess And I feel, and they feel The struggle, so real Don’t know how to deal Much less, how to heal A rock and a hard place; A slap on the face; A…
Because it is one of my favorite poems, that I’ve written, I am posting it again. (Originally here I Want a House Full of Nothing.) This I wrote at a time when I was unhappy with myself and my surroundings. Having everything meant nothing; hence, I imagined a world where living with nothing or just…
If you only holla when you’re mala I’d bet you a koala, that known even in Guatemala, you ain’t worth a dolla. Or a dime or none of my time. Sour like a lime, devious like slime, without you I’ll be fine. So be real or be gone and I don’t mean a put-on sincerity…
Surprise me. Take me to the moon so many promises have failed to climb. Show me the sunset at sunrise. Will you make come true that song’s lines, and for me the Kilimanjaro climb a thousand times? You vow never to make mistakes, but human we are and we break. If I’m the sole reason…
That’s me — the woman with the misjudged good intentions and misused overqualifications. Underestimated by many and rejected by plenty. Always seeking refuge in all the wrong arms; playing it safe just to end up with scars. That’s me.
I think I’m ready to live my life the way I wanted. I think I’m ready to live my life and not look back. I think I’m ready to see more than white and black; to fly a little, to wake up late no voices saying to face the day. Sit in complete silence from…
To feel your flame fanning my feet. It’s these little moments for which I live. As long as I can do this, it is not so bad that the pages of my calendar have turned to October and the marble floors are a frozen sea. As long as I can do this, let that inevitable…
“Are you grieving?” “No,” I quizzically said. “You only talk about sad things.” How to tell her that I’m a requiem; an airless breath, a heartless ribcage, a misunderstood sonnet. I want to tell her about the times I’ve stared blank at the silver clouds up in the sky, never hearing a reply. So unable…
Walls. Sometimes, by locking everyone out, you get locked in. Walls so high it’s hard to breathe. Can’t be brought down that easily. It will require an army — or maybe simply the undoing of the wrong-doing by those who made them go up.
She remembers the times he rubbed it all in her face. Car payment, shopping sprees, fancy meals, his fancy place. Every argument led to one direction, “I’ve done so much for you; I’m the answer to your equation.” Repetitive words he said so often times, made her question decisions she made in her prime times….
My feet up on a table, hands writing my life. Papers, sticky notes, cheap street art. All overlapping each other, hanging from a wall so plain and white. Receipts everywhere; months old, years old — what’s the point of holding on? Organizing them is futile, I long gave up. Paper towel wasted, not my doing….
Her nights are blue, but not just any blue; it is the darkest of all hues. By her bedside she keeps her booze, drowning her sorrows, awaking the muse. Don’t judge so soon ’cause you would, too, if you walked a mile in her shoes.