starry night

stars light up the sky

becoming a colony of love

i’ve never seen so many stars

under the same sky before

my neck extends and i can’t stop

imagining my soul becoming covered

in stars, i cannot stop imagining my soul

as a star. there’s a myth that every

star in the sky represents a soul

i wonder what collection of stars my soul

is made up of

— my soul is meant to be admired

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ocean eyes

i am standing at a great precipice between

the ocean and a river of my own blood

the ocean looks so inviting and

mysterious

i am drawn to its depth

i know that i will fall

drown and

die if i step off this precipice into the

abyss but it is more appealing than

standing in the river of my own blood

for another four years

— your eyes make me feel like i’m drowning

you were the last person in my life to touch me

your hands created a rippling hurricane that

destroyed any kind of hope i had for the future

 

you were the person that set the curve for what

love is supposed to be like, you have painted the

image of love in my mind in thick red and black

acrylic paint

 

i chipped off the red and black

i repainted the walls of my mind in yellow and blue

i destroyed the curve you set and created my own

standards of love and i made it a self-portrait

 

when i think of you, i no longer feel the longing

i no longer feel trapped i don’t feel your hands on

me anymore searching for more than i was ready

to give

 

i finally have lungs to breathe

a heart that beats

and hands that no longer feel like yours

 

i am free from your grasp

free to feel again

to experience life without the

fear of you bumping into me

along the way

 

i am no longer your prisoner

 

–  thank you for setting me free

you are uncomfortable

seeking to find a greater truth

than the one you’ve come to

learn, trying to find

comfort in

lies

you are afraid

trying to learn how to see light

in the darkness, aware of

the unknown, you search for

something

or someone, to protect you

you are alone

searching for someone to

help you realize your

irrational fear of

large windows,

where people can see your every

thought

feeling, and

desire. you are waiting for someone

to pull down the blinds, and

disappear inside your mind with you

you are strong

there is not a thing you couldn’t

handle, conquering all the

obstacles you’ve placed

in front of yourself, there is

no sense of failure

you are fearless

unafraid of the unknown,

you look straight through the dark,

walking endlessly, you

do not look back in fear of

forgetting something along the way

you are complete

with no need of someone to

pull down the blinds, hiding you

away from the world

the large windows in your mind

shine the light in, and

you are bright without

irrational fear of

disappearing,

so open up the blinds,

you are to be shared with the world

— i am multidimensional

 

The waves bow in the presence of the moon, he is gentle in her presence; calm and still.

The moon listens to her lovers sounds, the sounds of him crashing at her mercy.

The waves send a message to the lonely moon, asking her when she will return to him.

“Come meet me, my love,” he whispers. She calls back to him, “if only if only.”

The waves kiss the earth she brightens up, crying out “please come back home to me.” The moon smiles in response, “if only if only.”

— my love for you is like the stillness of the lake

Soulless in Chicago

As I walk down the street,

I am next to another soul. 

I sway my arms, praying for his and mine to meet.

Maybe then, I will feel whole. 

My hands are of a hard worker,

a woman who sowed her pain to strength.

Yet, when I sit still on a train, my heart races, even when I think of you and her. 

Young woman with an old soul, just waiting for her rebirth. 

I am walking down the street, looking for you. 

My feet drag, and I am counting my breaths. 

In, out. One, two. Three, four. 

I still look for a missing piece of my soul. 

In, out. Five, six. Seven, eight. 

My heart continues to race, even when I look down at the concrete. 

The Smell of Rain

The lake was the color of red wine,

and the earth smells of rain.

My skin was tattooed with that smell.

When I walked through the door, you

kissed my skin, and told me you loved the smell

of rain, that you could never leave what you love.

I walked through the garden, an unfamiliar place

within this concrete jungle. I walked through the door,

you kissed my skin, and told me you could never get

used to the smell of flowers. I stood outside in the rain.

Last night, I saw you with her in the garden.

Surrounded by flowers, you kissed her skin.

You got used to the smell.

You never even liked the smell of rain.

Nothing

He is nothing like you.

There will be nobody compared to you,

and I’m afraid that will always hold me back from trying.

 

He is nothing like you.

Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe a different kind of soul is what’s best

for me.

 

He is nothing like you.

While you are trying to figure it all out by staring at what needs to be done,

he figures it out by getting it done.

 

He is nothing like you,

but when I lay next to him,

he feels just like you.

Love(d)

You welcomed yourself into my dreams last night.

You told me that you loved me.

We were in my bed, and your arms were wrapped around me

I could almost smell the woodwork of your skin.

You loved me so much that I never needed to love myself– you always loved me enough for the both of us. I’m still trying to learn the concept of self love,

I try to remember how much you loved me

in hopes of digging up some leftover love

for myself.

You told me that you would wait for me at the gates of heaven, but

I feel as if I had already died waiting for you at the front gates of my home.

I wish I could forget the thought of you,

but how could you teach someone to forget to think about

anything at all.

 

Saturdays, 2010-2014

The kitchen was always bright, either by your smile or the refrigerator light.

We used to sit on the floor of your kitchen, take each other in, and talked about our fears.

We always turned off the lights.

It was almost like living with a ghost in the house.

I remember Saturdays with you.

We spent hours in your room.

I laid in your bed watching you paint. You were an artist, an unfathomable person.

Each part of your soul was closed off to everyone you met, but me.

I explored your soul and your mind. Your mind was a maze of darkness that even you did not understand.

You were always afraid that they would take you away from me, I think that’s why I insisted on holding you close.

Saturdays were our days.

When your hands trailed my body under the moonlight, those were the nights of Saturday.

Saturday was the day I realized that I was in love with you.

The day I tattooed my heart on my wrist for you, placed my heart on a silver platter for you.

I wish I could relive those Saturdays; meet you again, introduce myself again, change the ending.

I hope you remember those Saturdays.

I hope you think of me on those sadder nights on Saturdays.

February 9, 2017 // 1:15 AM