This is for you,
Woman of the Revolution
in this World
Where the Word means
to Revolve and Return
to the same place of pain, hurt and shame,
under guise of a Radical Name.
This is for you, Woman of the Revolution,
You hold up more than half the sky
in your arms,
like a precious child
you nurture Peace on your *****
cutting your fingers
Piecing together the broken Egos
of delicate Manhood.
This is for you Woman of the Revolution,
The Sisterhood in
Sweeping the floors,
because as far as technicalities,
Men never remember
that safe spaces need to be clean,
and food needs to be cooked,
and Healing must happen
in Comfort and Tenderness.
This is for you Woman of the Revolution,
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 11:49 PM UTC
tu corazón que latía en mi palma,
como una flor en la brisa del mar,
con la sal de mis lagrimas vivas,
esquiva como la arena entre dedos.
como te extraño mi corazón lindo,
dentro muy dentro de mi,
si te hubiera tenido en mis brazos,
que no podría yo hacer hoy?
todo, todo ese blanco,
estéril y frió y sola,
entre tantas personas aisladas,
sola, contigo, me despedí.
te despedí sola, entre todo ese blanco,
con ese miedo y dolor,
y ese sonido agobiante
que no me deja dormir.
tu no tenias pensamiento,
yo no tenia valor,
te quise sin conocerte,
te quise sin que fueras aun.
algún día regresaras a mi,
un arco iris de luz,
algún día dejare de escuchar
el vació de algo que cae
en metal, vibración vacía.
yo te anhelo,
por ser algo nuestro,
por que pudiste ser,
por que yo te quiero.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 1:49 PM UTC
Women are supposed to understand.
We are supposed to agree.
Supposed to care.
Supposed to be sensitive.
Women are supposed to give you
Those warm hugs that make
the world feel alright again.
They're supposed to wait on you,
Kiss you,
Open their hearts
And legs,
And bring you joy
and present you with
Vulnerability.
Women.
We are supposed to understand,
And stay calm,
And see it from your point of view.
We are supposed to be sensitive,
But strong,
Both just enough to comfort you,
Not too much to disturb.
Women are supposed to heal you,
Even as they cut themselves removing
Sharp, spiny thorns from you.
We are supposed to let ourselves be touched,
If we love you,
When you want;
Even, when we long for a different kind of touch.
We are supposed to be open and vulnerable,
Telling you our stories
Our dreams and hopes and fears,
Ecen though you would keep us
Half-guessing your thoughts,
Perhaps until we prove ourselves.
Should women guard their secrets instead?
Women are supposed to be quiet,
Wait to be called,
Don't cry,
Don't hurt,
Don't fight.
Just understand
And listen and care.
Just give and give,
And give and give.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
Content.
A lazy finger runs down my arm,
My curls are wild, floating up your pillowcase,
Like creeping vines entwined with dreams;
My eyes are closed.
You whisper about the brown of my skin,
The smooth earthy tones
Of fabled Aztec princesses,
The two small pyramids
You love to kiss,
The chalice of elixir
Of my thighs.
Content.
Worshipped.
Loved.
Wanted.
Your love reaches every corner in me,
My mind of metaphors,
My womanhood of wants,
My desire to be loved.
Completeness.
Sweet sugared syrupy caresses
Like Victorianesque courtships
Behind closed doors;
Courting of minds and ideas,
Two birds dancing love;
Hungry, ravenous raptures,
Nonhuman desires,
Tear me apart, want you so much.
Everything,
Everything,
Everything:
The hunger, the thirst, the sweetness,
The battle of minds, words, the challenge,
It convinces me of
Full, mature, unencumbered,
Growing, flourishing love.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
In this room of total darkness
Alone with thoughts and dreams
I've had nightmares
Chasing demons off from you
And outside me
I've had hopes and planning sessions
Wedding and angels and cake
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
We embrace
And it's like I'm holding
The entire Universe in my arms,
Stars within stars,
And I look up
Into your eyes,
Black holes,
That pull me in
Into the nothingness of your peace,
Everything and nothing
Existing together separately.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
In the summer,
I want to sit on your bed
and eat frozen
strawberries, red,
And ice cream,
And I want to lick
The sweetness of your lips
And talk about the stars
And their myths.
In the fall,
I want to wear your sweaters to bed,
And cuddle up to you in blankets,
And drink tea and hot chocolate with you,
Crunch the leaves with our boots
And hold hands.
In the winter,
I want to make love,
Skin to skin,
And the sunlight reflecting on the snow
Filling the room,
And keeping my socks on
And feeling your hands warm under the covers.
I want to start fires with a kiss.
In the spring,
I want to be reborn with you.
I want to be green and yellow,
Like dandelions,
And your breath to blow me away.
I want to be new.
I want colors to bloom in between our hands,
To fill your heart with flowers,
To smile like a child.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
When the world starts crumbling around me
I close my eyes and build.
A shelf here, our bed there;
a table for four, a porch for more;
Hardwood floors, soft pillows;
your record player, a piano;
framed photographs of ruins;
a loveseat piled with books.
When I start to question,
I start to build.
And in the long silences between us,
I am furnishing our home,
piece by piece,
until I forget the question,
and remember
that I,
that we,
are under construction.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC
I wonder if I have demonized you so much
Because what you did was so immoral-
So wrong, unholy.
Was it because I want to **** myself
For opening the space inside my lungs,
The space inside my heart?
I could forgive you,
But we are ******
And I'm not in the business
Of pardoning sins.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
The odds have always been against.
What were the chances,
that you would be born?
That out of 6 billion lives,
mine would be the one you touched?
Barely, any.
Yet your "hi" was the one,
the one to stir something inside me;
Every glance,
exchanged word,
and I realized that
while still alive,
my lungs were screaming
"help" all this time.
That you and I would coincide
was nothing but a statistical challenge;
our love the analyses life is made of.
I'm here with you now,
and our lungs are intertwined,
now forever.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC