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Tiffy Apr 2019
They say that, “the saddest poems are the ones that were never read by the person they were written for”
But how do I tell you that... you’ve read all the poems I wrote about you
You just didn’t know they were for you
A scrap of writing I did on somebody I love but won’t love me back, at least not like that
Tiffy May 2018
Her
Warm Summer skies and
the cool Winter breeze
The perfect kind of weather...
Not the only perfect thing that existed though,
There was this girl,
Nothing could match the way her eyes glistened
The way she smiled and laughed
Subtle
Those subtle moments let you know that you were doing something right
It let you know that you mattered to her
Even if she didn’t show it herself
She was somebody you would not have noticed at a first glance
But she is somebody you don’t think you could forget
She is untouchable
She is cold as the sea but hot like the sun
Her words burned but it was what she meant behind them that soothed the wounds
Those words, the words that gave you some hope
The words that could change your mood without you even realizing it
She’s forbidden fruit, she’s temptation
She’s someone who could make a heartbreak worth it
Then there were those moments
Those small moments that you wish you could have gotten
The small moments that were shared were everything
Not everyone could experience those moments with her
Not even me
About someone I can't have
Tiffy May 2018
We are divided into two sides
Two parts that make us one whole
We are those who live on the hyphen
Those who do not entirely relate to just one race but to others
We speak English as if it was a nasty taste in the mouth
Like the words did not seem to belong there
Like it was being forced out
It was unnatural, uneasy, unfitting
Nothing about speaking English fit
Nothing about being an American fit
Nothing seemed right because it was not entirely me
How do I tie myself down to only one race when I knew I was more?
How do I say I am simply only a Mexican when I am a Mexican-American?
How many questions can I answer to those who ask which side I am?
How do I answer these questions when I myself do not know for sure?
I want to explain to everyone that I am a Mexican-American
That I do not want to assimilate into the American culture when I am proud of the Mexican that I am
How do I explain the important role that a hyphen gives me?
That the hyphen that separates those two words is what connects me
A poem I had to write for my ROML 2550 class
Tiffy May 2018
We live in a country where skin color is used as the parameter to decide beauty
And English is used as the scale to judge intelligence
We walk around and hear the phrase, “Learn English if you want to live in America”
Like it was a casual “Hello” that came from somebody’s mouth
Like being an American was its own separate race
Like I should be ashamed of the race I was and
Discouraged for not being the race they wanted me to be
Those who hate me want me to leave
Those who say they love me want me to be their statistic
A number, a percentage, who among others are welcomed just to fit a quota
I am considered that token friend, that excuse for those who say, “I’m not racist, I’m friends with…”
I am just an object to those who do not respect the race that I am
But I know that I am more than that
I am someone who has overcame discrimination
Someone who has grown up with less than those around me
Someone who could say they made their dreams a reality
I am somebody more than just a statistic
I am somebody more than what you want me to be
A poem I had to write for my ROML 2550 class
Tiffy May 2018
At age 5, mamá and papa brought me over from Mexico to the new land
They called the land America
They told me that I could make my dreams come true here
At age 10, I was in school, I was given what mamá and papa did not have
I was given the chance to have an education
The chance to give me a better life
The chance to give mamá and papa a better life
At age 15, mamá worked hard to throw me a Quinceañera
A tradition where girls are no longer children, but young women
Mamá wanted me to keep in touch with my Mexican roots
She did not want me to lose sight of who I was
She wanted me to know that I was Mexican first, American second
The position of those two words mattered
The position meant everything to mamá and papa
At age 20, my life was different
I was beginning my second year of college
I had made my own friends
I was far away from home
I was working hard towards my future
At age 25, I could finally call myself successful
I performed well in my academics
I received the job that I worked hard for
I was finally my own person with my own life
Mamá and papa called, but I did not have time for them
I was busy living my life and making my dreams come true
The dreams that mamá and papa had placed upon me
At age 30, I have a family of my own now
I fell in love and got married to the love of my life
I welcomed to the world two beautiful children
One boy, one girl
Life was busier than ever, but during the holidays I visited mamá and papa
Mamá and papa were the same, nothing has changed except they got older
Oh how old they have gotten, but they still had the same hopes and dreams for me
They were proud, I have not seen mamá and papa in a while but they understood
They knew that I was busy making my dreams come true, they could not be happier
At age 35, my perfect life took a turn for the worst
Mamá was sick, she was diagnosed with cancer
I did what I could do, I sent mamá and papa money
Money was something they never had to worry about anymore
Their daughter grew up to be successful
The doctor said we were lucky to have caught it early… we?
I was not there, I was busy working, far away from home
But mamá and papa understood
They knew that I was busy working, they did not mind
They were proud their daughter was happy,
Happy making her dreams come true
At age 40, I learned about the meaning of life
Mamá was no longer with us…
She had passed away the year before
Heart cancer. I could not believe it
The woman with the biggest heart,
The heart with the most amount of love anyone could ever ask for
Gone in a flash, but where was I?
I was working, I was working because I wanted to achieve the American Dream
The American Dream that led mamá and papa over to the United States
At age 45, papa became sick to
He never showed any signs
He never let me know that he was getting weak
He was not the same young man when I was 5, he was fragile now
I could not see him though, it pained me
I was away… I was working… I was always working
I was trying to continue making my dreams come true
At age 50, I had everything that I could ever want
But everything that I wanted came at a cost
A poem I had to write for my ROML 2550 class

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