You saw me naked.
Not without clothes, but without my wall.
The 10 foot, steel reinforced, wall around my heart.
You broke in, brick by brick.
And I let you, I let you see me vulnerable.
Forgetting what others had done to me when they saw me the same.
I wish I could say you were different.
But, you saw me naked.
And you laughed, pointed out my insecurities, and broke me so much that I rebuilt my wall.
I rebuilt it higher and stronger than before.
Protecting my heart from so called love.
You also saw me without clothes.
Burned your touch into my skin.
Whispered sweet nothings into my ear, and that's just what they meant.
Nothing.
I can't look at my body without thinking about you.
Because, you saw me naked.
Defenseless and with open arms.
I shouldn't have trusted you.
But I did anyway.
I thought that since you had a wall to we would be amazing together.
But.
I never saw you naked.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 8:54 AM UTC
Dear dad,
I'm 18 years old,
and you've been out of my life for 17 years and 42 weeks of it.
You missed out on your little girl learning, and growing, and turning into a woman.
Someone else taught me how to ride a bike,
but I don't think that you mind missing something so important.
I don't think you mind missing recitals, and concerts and shows.
I don't think you'd even recognize me if you saw me on the street.
You don't deserve the title dad,
so for as long as I can remember, I've called you ***** donor.
Because that's all you ever given me (except for daddy issues and hereditary mental illness).
You don't deserve the title dad because you never taught me how I was supposed to be treated;
so I settled for too little, and longed to be loved.
But now, I don't even call you ***** donor,
I neglect to recognize your existance in my life,
because let's face it, you were never even a possibility.
I feel bad after all these years,
because you missed out on the joy of having a daughter,
and being a father.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 3:19 AM UTC
To my ex.
You destroyed me like I was made of china, and you threw me at a wall.
I keep finding parts of myself that I thought were lost, but some still love you.
Not in the way that I'll ever go back or forgive you, there aren't enough pieces for that.
But in the way that I miss how you smiled, and I miss the part of my heart that I still haven't gotten back.
I miss the pieces of myself that you picked up and kept as a souvenir.
You broke me into a million pieces, but I stuck myself together with pieces of chewing gum and superglue, and I'm trying to love like I've never loved before, but it's hard when I'm not whole anymore.
I can't believe I'm even attempting to fall in love when I'm so broken and lost.
I wish I had never fallen before, because when I fell you didn't catch me, and now you can see where I'm broken.
I'm wondering how anyone can love me if I can't love myself, how they can love me with all my pieces missing and scars from where you hurt me.
I call you a boy, and not a man in the title of this poem because no man would do what you did to me.
No man would hide behind a screen when he shattered a girl beyond recognition.
I look like you were seeing me through the diamond in the ring that you bought me, the ring that obviously meant nothing.
You shattered me, broke me into a million pieces.
I wish I knew I'd be whole again one day.
But until I find myself, and get my heart back, I know I won't be.
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 12:54 AM UTC
You are home,
I know you so well I could walk around you with a blindfold on, and know you better than myself.
I know every crack and crevice, every imperfection you hate, like the back of my hand.
No no, like a beautiful landscape, forever changing, but getting more beautiful.
Your face is impressed on my mind, never to be changed, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
You are home.
I know you so well I could walk around you with a blindfold on, and know you better than myself.
You are like my childhood home, I know every secret place, everywhere you hide when you’re scared.
I know how to bring you out to see the silver lining, like a turtle out of its shell.
You are home.
I know you so well I could walk around you with a blindfold on, and know you better than myself.
I know your sunshine, and your thunderstorms, and the leaks when it rains too much, I’ll fix you.
You are home.
I know you so well I could walk around you with a blindfold on, and know you better than myself.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 9:51 AM UTC
America, the beautiful place full of obesity and intolerance,
where there’s a McDonald’s on every corner,
but a homeless veteran on every corner too.
The place where old white men are making choices about women’s reproductive rights,
refugees are turned away from a place founded by immigrants,
And racism is alive and well.
America the Beautiful doesn’t exist any more,
It’s America the polluted, America the Land of Sexism, America that would disappoint our forefathers.
America was founded by people in search of freedom, but yet our government is trying to take our freedoms away,
when our President is in favor of conversion therapy that makes LGBTQ+ people 8 times more likely to commit suicide,
it’s obvious that he doesn’t actually care about us.
America the money hungry country,
Where I can’t afford the EpiPen I need to survive,
And the top 1% says that raising the minimum wage is us being selfish.
America the Misogynist,
Because our country is directly affected by who we choose to represent it.
And I do not want to be “grabbed by the *****
I don’t want a ****** to be in charge when my ****** is still out living free on the streets.
We are America the sexist because when women march for their right’s it’s seen as a whine,
not a cry for help.
America the bigot,
Where people are seen more as their melanin pigment, or their religion, and less as a person.
Where “don’t shoot” is more of a suggestion than a plea.,
Where I’m worried about my friends every single day.
America the Beautiful doesn’t exist any more.
It was made beautiful by the array of faces all different creeds, colors, and religions.
Now America is the United States of Hate.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 10:14 AM UTC
I never remember dates, or if I have plans,
But I remember your smile,
and I remember you making me laugh so hard I snort
I never remember to eat, or to sleep,
But I remember that when I do eat,
I can eat more sushi than you,
And that I sleep so much better with you by my side.
I remember all the little things,
like how you look at me when you’re about to kiss me,,
and how it feels to hold your hand while ice skating.
I remember how my heart fluttered when you told me how you felt,
and I remember how you look in beanies,
(even though you refuse to wear them)
I forget simple things like what I ate today,
or to put out the trash on Thursdays.
I don’t remember a lot of things,
but what’s important I remember.
Every aspect of you is important,
I may not remember where we were,
or the day or even the month,
But I’ll remember how you sing in the car,
and you make my happy.
My memory is selective, and I select you.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 12:24 AM UTC
I would love to say that I'm in love with you,
But the fact is...
I'm using my mirage of happiness to distract myself from him.
I would love to say that I'm in love with you,
But the fact is...
Every time I say your name,
I have to keep myself from screaming his,
Every time I kiss your lips,
I have to close my eyes and imagine I'm kissing him.
I would love to say that I'm in love with you,
But the fact is...
When I'm in another place,
Its his face I see,
When I touch you,
Its his skin I feel
I would love to be in love with you..
But when I look for my heart,
I find it still in his hands.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
Dr. King said “I have a dream”,
But his dream suffered homicide in the streets of our nightmares.
Murdered by the people who were supposed to protect us.
336 innocent people killed in 2015, because the police saw color instead of people,
I suppose the color of their skin was more important than human rights.
Because someone's melanin pigment spoke more to how people perceived them than did the color of their character.
So much has changed, but we’re not done yet.
There are still racists hiding behind screens, and cops who refuse body cams.
The white man in blue suits killings brown kid’s dreams, murdering their moments and god ****
Dr. King’s dream of peace and harmony dies in the eyes of every American citizen.
You know things ain’t right when you are more worried about your boyfriend with cops than with drug dealers.
You know something is wrong when walking with him at night is more dangerous for him than for me.
You know there’s a problem when there are too many cops, not enough justice,
Too many them and not enough us and....
Dr. King said “I have a dream”,
And.... So much has changed, but we’re not done yet.
When there are still people like Sandra Bland, and Mike Brown, who die for no reason, then we aren't done yet.
Because when people are more comfortable on a street with gun shots than cops, then we aren't done yet.
When I still get looks for having a black boyfriend, then WE AREN'T DONE YET.
We won’t be done until there’s equality, until there’s no more violence, it may not happen in my life time, but we aren’t done yet.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
Love isn’t all the Hollywood romanticism,
Love isn’t just the words I love you.
When you love someone,
You’d do anything for their well-being,
Even if they don’t like it,
When you love someone,
You’d give up something for yourself,
To get something for them,
When you love someone,
You’d hold their hair back when they throw up,
And you’d stay still when they’re asleep in your arms,
But you’d also flush their stash if they keep using,
You’d put them into rehab and help them get clean,
You’d make sure that you’re always there,
But you’d bow out, when they no longer need you.
When you love someone,
It’s all about them, never about you.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
When you dip her on the dance floor,
It's the color of her dress,
As she whispers in your ear,
It's the color of her lips,
When you make love,
It's the color that she leaves on your back,
With every scratch,
It's the color of the kisses,
And hickeys,
She leaves all over your body.
It's the color of your anger,
When she pushes you away,
It's the color of the words don't touch me.
It is sharp,
It's the color of the blood that you bleed,
When you hear those words,
It's the color of your eyes after a long night with no sleep,
because you were up thinking about her.
It's the color of her eyes,
as she cries,
and begs you to come back to her.
It's the color of your fist,
moments after you break,
and punch a hole in the wall.
It's the color of her face,
when she's angry at you,
but also the color of her love.
It's the color of her tear stained face,
as you kiss her,
and tell her everything is going to be alright.
It's the color of the love,
and lust,
you have for each other.
It's the color you can't stay away from.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC