FOR loving ME
FOR BEING SO ABOVE ME
EVEN THROUGH YOUR INFERIORITY-
FOR DOING SO MUCH FOR ME
BUT ACTUALLY DOING SO LITTLE.
DON’T LOOK AT ME, BUT
PLEASE DON’T LOOK AWAY.

I FIND MYSELF TANGLED IN YOUR SATIN BEDSHEETS.
AS OFTEN AS I FIND MYSELF TANGLED IN WORDS AT YOUR THROAT.
I CAN'T STRESS IT ENOUGH.
I NO LONGER FEEL love. I FEEL ALL OF THE WEIGHT, THOUGH YOUR TOUCH MAKES THE LOAD OF CONDITION WEIGHTLESS.
THE LIFT OF THIS BURDEN IS MOMENTARY.
WE GRAVITATE, WE CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT.
I HATE YOU
FOR loving ME.

He’s probably not everything I’ve ever wanted
Pompous and overbold, he shines too bright,
Like he’s some star that refuses to die,
An insignificant blinking wanting to conquer the universe.
It hurts to watch him,
a fragile twinkle who’s so desperate to encompass his
Struggles, to survive, to not fall apart to his weaknesses.
He believes “talent is something you make bloom”
Obsessive, compulsive, the only things he makes bloom are
The tired lavenders under his eyes
and angry blues on his knees, the colors fading and reappearing
Remind me of when days turn into nights, nights into days.
Reckless and confident, he makes me want to punch him
He’s a train wreck happening, a shooting star hurling through space,
When I find him, he’ll be in pieces, and I’ll have to hold him together
He’s a constant motion, an existence that weighs like the whole world when he leans his forehead onto mine, and I tremble in his arms because I can’t stop him
He hides his daily torture through high-pitched whines and flashy smiles,
As if he’s the center of the universe, when all he is
is matter being absorbed into a black hole.
Pretentious and annoying and troublesome and stupid and dumb and
more than enough
I gravitate to him, he keeps me afloat
When I stare into his eyes
I see galaxies
When I hold his hands
Supernovas form
When he wraps me in his chest of insecurities,
I feel the planets align
When he kisses me,
I know a stellar collision has happened.
If that isn’t enough proof,
My heart, in all its stardust, a living form of space,
Pulses and radiates, in sync with the universe’s heartbeat,
A steady affirmation that yes,
He’s not everything I want
But he’s everything I need

Would you kindly
hug me tight
with your hands
around my neck?
Would you kindly spend the night
and comfort this nervous wreck?

Could you show me a smile
while you tell me that I'm trash
Could you insult my lifestyle
without even batting an eyelash

Should you care about garbage like me
your tastes must be perverted
Should I be allowed to feel this happy
honestly, I'm uncertain.

I need you to use your claws
to draw out the blood from my skin
I need you to break through the walls
I built to hide my true self within

I need you to split me open and dig inside
to grasp at my heart if you can
I need you to know the thoughts that I hide
and love the person I really am

Si el tiempo no tiene espacio,
si es solamente una ilusión,
quisiera transportarme por un momento,
a ese lapso donde era dueña de tu corazón.
//
No en sueños, necesito esa transcendencia,
sentir mi alma dejar esta inmunda existencia
transportarme nuevamente a vivir
ese momento de nuevo contigo.
//
Si es cierto, entonces,
que el tiempo es una fantasía
quiero ser la invitada de honor,
sentarme en el sofá del futuro,
y deleitarme en la paz que de tu mirar,
en ese pasado donde yo era tu único presente.
//
Quiero recelosamente rememorar,
¡como era que comenzaba ese beso!
¿qué sonidos salían de tu esencia cuando
magnéticamente nuestros labios se incrustaban?
//
Si, necesito evocar
ese beso que se sentía a verso
inmerso en letras y en sinfonías
que ungían mi piel baldía
donde mi alma era tan tuya
y tus labios tan míos.
//
Ese verso que era tu beso,
que versaba con mi alma
que desalmaba mi rigidez,
que desplomaba mi timidez,
que me ensalmaba,
protegiéndome de yermar en espacios con tiempo.
//
Quiero que el negativo de ese momento
quede impregnado en ese espacio
donde mi alma viaja sin boleto.
//
Si el tiempo es una ilusión..,
quisiera conquistarlo
y permanecer allí como única ciudadana
en ese país que es tu piel,
y nuevamente encontrar mi soberanía
en el sabor mágico de tus ojos café.
LeydisProse
10/5/2017
https://www.facebook.com/LeydisProse/

You are the kind of rare..that feels so familiar.
You’re waking feels so naturally mine.  
You're the anomaly of a love that wants to bind itself untethered.

You are the verse that has been discontinued,
the word suspended...that which could never be replicated.  
The word stamped in the interrupted lexicon of a poetic kiss.

You and the rare touch of your hands
which whisper to my ear
sounds stolen from Cupid himself.

You and your rare lips,
full of symphonies that rouse my indelicate skin.  
Those lips that attach to the need of a kiss to be triumphant,
of a kiss propagates wisdom,
a kiss that wants to invent another way to osculate without grazing,
a kiss without blackmail and indulging in all its variants.  

You and that rare form to steal my life,
making it so yours, a little less mine,
teaching me another way of looking at life.  

You're so peculiar,
however, my love understands your authenticity,
wonders in your eccentricity,
melts in the heat of your simplicity,
lives excited in those unusual qualities
that astounds the world, but for me...
is the most familiar thing I’ve ever known,
my kind of magic and reason to my live!

You are the kind of rare
                                   that feels so familiar to me!!

LeydisProse
10/9/2017
*******************­********************­*********


Tú eres la rareza que se siente tan familiar.
Se siente tan mío tu despertar.
Eres la anomalía de un amor
que quiere atarse sin ataduras.

Tú el verso discontinuado,
la palabra suspendida…la que no se repite,
la que deja su sello estampado en
la interrupción del repertorio de un poético beso.

Tú y tus raras manos
las que enganchan mis oídos
y les susurran sonidos robados al mismo cupido.

Tú y tus raros labios,
llenos de sinfonías que despiertan mi piel de gallina.
Esos labios que le hacen compañía a la necesidad de que un beso triunfe,
de que un beso unce en sabiduría,
que no desvaríe,
que invente otra forma de besar sin labios,
sin chantajes y entregándose en todos sus variantes.

Tú y esa rara forma de robarme la vida,
haciéndola tuya,
ensenándome otra forma de ver la vida.

Eres tan peculiar, más sin embargo,
mi amor te comprende,
protege tu autenticidad,
se maravilla en tu excentricidad,
se desborona en tu fogosidad,
vive emocionada en esas cualidades
tan raras para el mundo
pero para mí…
tan familiares para mi
y lo que se ha convertido en la magia y razón de mi vida!!!

All I really want is to talk to you rather than distract myself with the petty things I do.

I'm almost gone.

A deep hollow in my chest leaches at my sanity leaving me bereft of a connection that could seal up the cracks in my heart from which leak my wounded humanity.

Scrolling through my Facebook feed leaves my hungering for what I really need.

The stupid games and apps light up my phone and make me forget that I'm alone.

Tomorrow creeps into each patchwork day. You can't hold time it slips away.

Each hour is fractured by distraction the sun is sinking before I gain traction.

While I'm not looking I miss the sunset. Time to cushion my head with this night's fret.

I won't sleep tonight, like most. My place is haunted. I'm the ghost.

I drift the twilight between realms with clipped wings and overwhelmed.

Sun and moon chase round about; light blinded eyes, thick-dark-muffled-shout.

That's the way it is at night things look different by starlight.

But which am I the sun or moon; do I give chase or am I pursued?

I won't find the things I seek. I'm stuck like this from week to week.

To be needed is exhausting, but to be not needed is accosting.

I need to hear you hearing me and be realified in that harmony.

Instead of trapped between death and life, I'll be free when I see you seeing that I'm Being. Existence could suffice, yet personhood is reciprocally conferred. Make me a Being like you then you'll be a christ.

What is my name?

You say that you can't read my mind as if I haven't put it down line by line.

I want to know I'm more than heat rising from the pavement to dissipate in the sky. Or else call me Mirage--If you can't see me, feel me, hear me.

I'm already gone.