SLB - Hello Poetry

The music calls me Takes hold of my soul, pulls me to the dance floor— and I become the girl in red shoes, driven to dance through pain, through exhaustion. Suavemente, bésame But I welcome it. I laugh through the ache, move through the burn. I crave the sweat, the heat— the way my body forgets to hurt. Quimbara, quimbara, quma, quimbamba The drums take me captive, and I go willingly, hips in sync with the rhythm, feet defying fire. What is it that makes me burn this way? A curse— etched in my bloodline. An inheritance I never chose, but never refuse. It makes me feel alive. And I never want to stop.

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Jul 27, 2025

Jul 27, 2025 at 7:52 PM UTC

Summer Salsa Nights

The music calls me Takes hold of my soul, pulls me to the dance floor— and I become the girl in red shoes, driven to dance through pain, through exhaustion. Suavemente, bésame But I welcome it. I laugh through the ache, move through the burn. I crave the sweat, the heat— the way my body forgets to hurt. Quimbara, quimbara, quma, quimbamba The drums take me captive, and I go willingly, hips in sync with the rhythm, feet defying fire. What is it that makes me burn this way? A curse— etched in my bloodline. An inheritance I never chose, but never refuse. It makes me feel alive. And I never want to stop.

26

When I met my husband, he brought me you. Double dates turned into heart-to-hearts— you became my friend. Wedding bells rang. We got married. A new life began. A friendship now engraved in gold, 'till death do us part. You hold me when I cry, you hold me when I laugh— we are unblooded sisters. I look at cradles, and you hold my hand. The years go by. I blow out the candles—thirty. Ten years gone in a flash. But I don’t look at cradles anymore. There are tears in your eyes as you ask why. You see my eyes drift to him— just a second, but you don’t miss it. You hold my hand, telling me, The way you’ve been moving has always been him. Don’t lose yourself. And it hurts me, because if anyone would know, it would be you— my heart-sister. Brought to me by a man whose loyalty was never mine. And still— you were the gift he gave me without meaning to. Not his to keep, but mine in every way that matters.

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Jun 22, 2025

Jun 22, 2025 at 11:29 PM UTC

Heart Sister

When I met my husband, he brought me you. Double dates turned into heart-to-hearts— you became my friend. Wedding bells rang. We got married. A new life began. A friendship now engraved in gold, 'till death do us part. You hold me when I cry, you hold me when I laugh— we are unblooded sisters. I look at cradles, and you hold my hand. The years go by. I blow out the candles—thirty. Ten years gone in a flash. But I don’t look at cradles anymore. There are tears in your eyes as you ask why. You see my eyes drift to him— just a second, but you don’t miss it. You hold my hand, telling me, The way you’ve been moving has always been him. Don’t lose yourself. And it hurts me, because if anyone would know, it would be you— my heart-sister. Brought to me by a man whose loyalty was never mine. And still— you were the gift he gave me without meaning to. Not his to keep, but mine in every way that matters.

46

The blue and red lights flash, The handcuffs snap shut— But what was your crime? I kept asking myself that, As I watched them take you away. Was it your courage when you decided to move? Was it your audacity to leave everything behind? Your ignorance, thinking you could see it through— A better life for you and your children? Or maybe it was just the fact that you did. Working two jobs, Starting a business, Buying a home, Placing roots. That was it. That was your crime. It had to stop. The blue and red lights flash behind you, Your heart quickens, but still, You turn to me and smile— Lying through your lips, "It’ll all be okay."

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Jun 8, 2025

Jun 8, 2025 at 7:54 PM UTC

An Immigrant's Crime

The blue and red lights flash, The handcuffs snap shut— But what was your crime? I kept asking myself that, As I watched them take you away. Was it your courage when you decided to move? Was it your audacity to leave everything behind? Your ignorance, thinking you could see it through— A better life for you and your children? Or maybe it was just the fact that you did. Working two jobs, Starting a business, Buying a home, Placing roots. That was it. That was your crime. It had to stop. The blue and red lights flash behind you, Your heart quickens, but still, You turn to me and smile— Lying through your lips, "It’ll all be okay."

22

I couldn't tell you the lessons I learned at twenty— I was only just discovering what it meant to no longer be a child. I couldn't tell you the lessons I learned at twenty-five— my frontal lobe had only just caught up. But at thirty, I can tell you this: the most important thing I’ve learned is to love. It sounds simple— cliché, even— but when you give love, love somehow finds its way back to you. And that— that is the fuel that will fill your soul.

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May 28, 2025

May 28, 2025 at 11:04 PM UTC

30th Birthday

I couldn't tell you the lessons I learned at twenty— I was only just discovering what it meant to no longer be a child. I couldn't tell you the lessons I learned at twenty-five— my frontal lobe had only just caught up. But at thirty, I can tell you this: the most important thing I’ve learned is to love. It sounds simple— cliché, even— but when you give love, love somehow finds its way back to you. And that— that is the fuel that will fill your soul.

27

6 a.m. The alarm sounds. Eyes open slowly, Fighting the pull of sleep. 7:30 a.m. Coffee in my mug, I race out the door. I’m late Yet somehow, There’s still time to think of you. 12 p.m. The phone rings endlessly. Paperwork piles up, Fork in my salad, The first bite pulls my mind to you. 3 p.m. Meetings drag. Click-clack of typing, Emails constantly pinging Until 5 p.m. And my hands tingle, Knowing it’s almost time. 6 p.m. The pan sizzles. The air fills with the scent of ground beef. The door creaks open My husband greets me. The TV hums softly. Bowls of pasta in our laps, And still, I think of you. 9:30 p.m. Water boils in the kettle. A steaming mug finds his hands, While mine search for you. I open my laptop, Eyes aching from the screen, But I can take a little more—for you. The mouse hovers over a small document. Tea steams as the page loads. I smile. Hands rest on the keys, And I begin to weave.

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Apr 13, 2025

Apr 13, 2025 at 8:39 PM UTC

A City Poet

6 a.m. The alarm sounds. Eyes open slowly, Fighting the pull of sleep. 7:30 a.m. Coffee in my mug, I race out the door. I’m late Yet somehow, There’s still time to think of you. 12 p.m. The phone rings endlessly. Paperwork piles up, Fork in my salad, The first bite pulls my mind to you. 3 p.m. Meetings drag. Click-clack of typing, Emails constantly pinging Until 5 p.m. And my hands tingle, Knowing it’s almost time. 6 p.m. The pan sizzles. The air fills with the scent of ground beef. The door creaks open My husband greets me. The TV hums softly. Bowls of pasta in our laps, And still, I think of you. 9:30 p.m. Water boils in the kettle. A steaming mug finds his hands, While mine search for you. I open my laptop, Eyes aching from the screen, But I can take a little more—for you. The mouse hovers over a small document. Tea steams as the page loads. I smile. Hands rest on the keys, And I begin to weave.

42

It's Wednesday. A flicker of nerves runs through me. What will it say today? The machine that holds half my worth. I worked out four times last week. But you skipped a day—two weeks ago. I've been eating 1200 calories. Have you? What about the late-night snacks at 10 PM? What about the weekends? The scale will see. It won’t lie. I get on, and immediately, I hate myself. A 2.5-pound weight gain in 14 days I want to starve I want slit my wrists See if it teaches me a lesson: Eat less, Work harder, Harder, HARDER The scale mocks me. I hate it so much, But I can’t stop. It’s an addiction. Tell me— What will you show me in seven days? Will I finally be enough then?

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Mar 20, 2025

Mar 20, 2025 at 12:14 AM UTC

Numbers Break Me

It's Wednesday. A flicker of nerves runs through me. What will it say today? The machine that holds half my worth. I worked out four times last week. But you skipped a day—two weeks ago. I've been eating 1200 calories. Have you? What about the late-night snacks at 10 PM? What about the weekends? The scale will see. It won’t lie. I get on, and immediately, I hate myself. A 2.5-pound weight gain in 14 days I want to starve I want slit my wrists See if it teaches me a lesson: Eat less, Work harder, Harder, HARDER The scale mocks me. I hate it so much, But I can’t stop. It’s an addiction. Tell me— What will you show me in seven days? Will I finally be enough then?

28

Writing a poem for you Is difficult— Putting 10 years into words, Would fill an entire book. So how do I fit it into a poem? When I could write A hundred verses on your smile, That brightens my day, A thousand verses On your laughter, That makes my heart glow. A million verses on your soul, That was meant to find mine. Writing a poem for you Is difficult, Because you are The biggest piece of my world.

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Jan 24, 2025

Jan 24, 2025 at 10:50 PM UTC

A Poem For You

Writing a poem for you Is difficult— Putting 10 years into words, Would fill an entire book. So how do I fit it into a poem? When I could write A hundred verses on your smile, That brightens my day, A thousand verses On your laughter, That makes my heart glow. A million verses on your soul, That was meant to find mine. Writing a poem for you Is difficult, Because you are The biggest piece of my world.

17

Every month The drops of blood Ache As I'm reminded I'm not a mom

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Dec 10, 2024

Dec 10, 2024 at 10:15 PM UTC

Not Pregnant

Every month The drops of blood Ache As I'm reminded I'm not a mom

5

I don't like To talk about the day They took you away Because that **** Hurt But it happened Heart ripped from my chest A scar, still not healed Pain Never really knew it Until that day The look in my mother's eyes Haunting The questions asking where you were Crushing The unknown Suffocating I was drowning No air in my lungs The seconds passed in years As I wondered Would I ever see you again The day they took you away ****** me up I'm tired of burying it I want to shout it So give me a pen And let my screams be heard

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Nov 17, 2024

Nov 17, 2024 at 12:58 PM UTC

Another Immigrant Story

I don't like To talk about the day They took you away Because that **** Hurt But it happened Heart ripped from my chest A scar, still not healed Pain Never really knew it Until that day The look in my mother's eyes Haunting The questions asking where you were Crushing The unknown Suffocating I was drowning No air in my lungs The seconds passed in years As I wondered Would I ever see you again The day they took you away ****** me up I'm tired of burying it I want to shout it So give me a pen And let my screams be heard

28

Working for money is such a drag When I would rather be Dropping lines About the earth, the sky and stars Instead I grind Becoming too exhausted Too clouded To put pen to paper To appreciate all the colors Of this existence Working for money is such a drag When my soul is begging for more

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Nov 3, 2024

Nov 3, 2024 at 8:33 PM UTC

Overworked

Working for money is such a drag When I would rather be Dropping lines About the earth, the sky and stars Instead I grind Becoming too exhausted Too clouded To put pen to paper To appreciate all the colors Of this existence Working for money is such a drag When my soul is begging for more

12