Sometimes
I feel alone
I feel it on my skin
like my body knows
of the empty promises
and the hopelessness echoed
by my thoughts

I've been wondering
whether you feel that too
But then again,
your body needs a heart
to feel anything at all

I wrote your name on paper,
Spent nights on phone calls and texts,
filled daydreams and dreams with
distorted memories of you,
Justified your distance with work,
Reasoned your temper with life,
Defended your insults with pride,
Because you were perfect for me,
But it only took a second, a nanosecond,
a Picosecond, for you to throw me away.

Just like that.

It wasn’t me, you said,
And you were right.
It was you.

And I watch the sunlight curl around my finger,
feel the wind on my cheek,
hear the waves falling on sand,
I sense it all,
the ocean on my tongue,
the sun in my eyes,
the wind on my skin,
I feel it like an embrace,
like it’s telling me to let go,
and just like that, I do

They call it the ****, the ******, the Cho-Cha,
the Cooch, the ****, the ***** Fly Trap, the
Yahoo, the Honey ***, the Pink Taco, the Woo-Woo,
the Foof, the Hairy Potter, the Flaming Lips,
the Sticky Bun, the Pecan Pattie, the Field of Dreams,
Too long women have hidden from it,
the big V, she who shall not be named,
Call it by what it is,
In whatever shape, form or color,
It's a ******, get over it.

I was purchased for beauty,
An orchid instead of a sunflower,
For pure and timid beauty is a natural beauty,
And I, stocked in that kitchen, let eyes linger,
I let fingers graze my petals, until alas,
I was worn out, my petals fell,
turned brown and crumbly and ugly,
so no more eyes lingered, no more fingers
grazed, no more beauty kept,
My stem fell, dried by the aimless
torture of pointless living,
Irrigated only for show, only
for maintenance of beauty, yet
my core was already rotten,
already old, already exhausted,
I was discarded without a second
glance, my petals gone,
my stem, broken and I, gone.
A last hurrah for the life
never lived.

Waves clash
in the distance,
And I feel it,
the Peaceful melancholy,
My skin dries, turns red
beneath the sun,
I squint, blink the
sand out of my eyes,
and watch the ocean
unfold into a serene
chaos, I realize I
wish to be it when
I die,
I wish to become
the sea

I am exhausted of talking about love,
I find it everywhere, constantly,
So much so that I develop hate towards it,
But I don't hate it, I envy it,
No, I envy anyone who has it, yet
I am a hypocrite,
When I feel love, panic obscures it,
I run away due to inexperience,
I flee from it due to my insecurities,
I hope it goes away because my heart beats too fast,
Days later I feel it, regret,
It forms a lump in my throat and I begin again
the cycle of hypocritical love