...
but you're not here
and i'm not there

and it hurts
to think of

there are more than
30,000 people around me
and I am trying to find you
in every single one of them

sometimes when i miss you
it takes every bit of strength
that i have
to not cry

but most times
i cry anyway

i spend a lot of time
thinking about the stars
and even more time
placing you in them

i wonder what i did
to make Aphrodite punish me
in such a way
that i cannot have you

because the way you look at the stars
is not the way you look at me

They say the best conversations happen at 2 in the morning.
"Hi"
"Hi :)"
"How was your day?"
"I think I love you..."
"Really? I love you too..."
Too bad I never hit send in the first place.

i am dying
burning alive
and my simple tears
will do nothing
to save me

Fanfares resounding
the crowd all too big
cheers around me
you stand on the stage
but they're not clapping for you.

My feet carry me closer and closer to you.
after all these years I'm still yours
there's no doubt about it.
I'm with you now, together onstage
but they're not clapping for you.

and while I might be yours
even after all those ****** years
tonight
the fanfares, the crowds, the cheers
are all for me.

I believe in luck
I believe in coincidences
I believe in fate
I believe in destiny

It's contradictory I know
but so are you

When I first met you
you were strong
          you still are but it's different now
you answer every beck and call
don't listen to advice
you wait by the phone
sulk when he does
you're like a lost puppy

My darling I've never been great with luck
I've never won the lottery
My coincidences always really ****
and my fate is constantly changing
          but you

This has happened
once
twice
before
but the third is not the charm
          (or the fourth)

My darling I'm sorry
but he is not written in your stars
not in your destiny

I'm sorry
          but then again
                    I'm not
I tried so hard
but you didn't listen
you won't

I've been in your position
          We all have
but I got out of the rut
I'll be waiting for you too
          *We all will

I'll love you always
Till the end of time itself
Forever is real

Angie-
       ​fickle, effervescent, esoteric, impatient.

Relative of writers and hedonists.

Lover of spoken word poetry, packing peanuts, and emergency exit row seats.

Who feels that words mean so little yet so much,
       ​you will almost always **** at something the first time around (it's okay),
       ​the 10,000 murderous butterflies attacking her stomach when she sees him.

Who needs the TV on, no matter what,
​       to hear that she is not crazy, everyone else is,
       ​the time to just sit and read for a change.

Who fears that she really does fail at life,
       ​the huge spider she's sure lives in her closet,
       ​the actual use of physics and calculus in real life situations.

Who gives away advice like guidance counselors are supposed to,
​       away hair ties like pencils,
       ​love like its cheap.

Who would like to see an actual shooting star,
​       Sarah and Phil Kay(e) confess their undying love to each other,
​       the Doctor be happy.

Resident of Underland.

Acuña

The black and white butterfly is now stained red and purple.

When I was 16 my mom decided that the best way for her to feel good about her body again was to get plastic surgery.
Now my mom was always beautiful.
She was petite, had a tiny waist, full hips, and an overall curvy body.
In my eyes, she was perfect and I would've loved to look like her.

But she was unhappy.

Her stomach wasn't flat enough.
Her thighs too big and lets not even talk about the **** she felt was too small.

So cut, cut, cut away.
Tear her open.
Take the undesirable parts away and throw them out.
Never speak of them again.
But add some there.
Too little.
Not enough.
Don't worry about the person under all that skin.

Make them pretty again.
Make them pretty again.

And now look at her.
Hunched over because "beauty is pain."

And the butterfly tattoo on her lower back bleeds and red and purple, the colors of her bruised skin.

My father doesn’t exist.
At least not to me.
He disappeared years ago when he stopped calling.

You don’t exist.
At least not to me.
You disappeared years ago when you stopped calling.

Dear No-One,

Someone has become your friend. Unfortunately, now Someone knows why No-One wanted to be a part of the Loneliness. No-One is scared and Someone sees it. No-One does a bad job of hiding. Or at least Someone is really good at figuring stuff out. No-One doesn't have to be afraid. No-One sits alone, in a corner, by himself, mumbling the dark sayings that come from his mind. The darkest parts. The deepest parts. Someone has brought a light. Let her place it. Someone sees. Someone understands. Someone tried to help. Someone failed. But Someone tried. Now, it is No-One's fault. All their own fault. No-One left to help now. Someone's gone. Anyone's gone. They're all gone.

Sincerely, Someone.

Dear Sir,
I hate you.
You don't realize just how much I hate you, though.
Why can't you see that I just wanted to help you, kind Sir?
To help you move on and see your true potential.
Alas, you shot down my inspirational words, and instead dug your own grave deeper, Sir.
The problem, you see Sir, was that you wouldn't let me in; couldn't let me in.
You were broken beyond repair.
My soothing words would never have helped.
So it is with regret that I announce my departure, Sir.
I hope you don't search for me.

Sincerely, Yours.

my love for you
borders on sacrilege
almost unholy

i could wait for you forever
but it doesn't mean i will
not if you don't want me to

There is a law in physics that says energy cannot be created or destroyed.
The energy just goes on becoming something else and this energy has been here for millions of years-
up to when the dinosaurs roamed the earth and even farther back.
I think the dinosaurs would be disappointed to know that the energy they spent on trying to stay alive is being wasted on me trying to catch your eye.

Now millions of years ago, the dinosaurs weren't thinking about love.
They were concentrated on survival
and in a way
So am I because I honestly don't believe that I'll make it without you.
But with you by my side, honey, we'll rule this earth for years to come.

Forget the ice age and meteors
in fact
the dinosaurs should be scared of us because there can't be a love this strong without some collateral damage, whether it be you, me, or the dinosaurs, but know this:
I love you like the dinosaurs tried to survive;
*desperately.

When we first met, after proper introductions, you asked me who I was.
"But what do you mean?", I asked, "I just told you who I was."
"No", you said.
"Who are you?"

So I lifted my arms and rolled up my jeans.

"Here", I said.
"This is my story.
These are not scars, oh no.
They are much more than that.
These marks are my scratched out words and mistakes on blank pages.
They are the words that I said wrong and still had time to erase.
Except for that one, I fell off my bike here.

If you must read, please do so carefully.
My pages are a little fragile from the abuse caused by the wrong people reading me.
I still have a doggy ear fold from one who never finished reading."

Do you remember that night that you stayed up, trying to find some way to cope.

When you turned and screamed into your pillow, desperately seeking release.
                                  
Once you sat next to me and talked about nothing. I listened and let you vent.
                                                  
Or when you called me at 2 in the morning to tell me that you were too scared to sleep. Sometimes the worst monsters were in your dreams.
                            
You probably don't remember when you laid next to me, staring at the night sky, hoping for a wishing star.

Do you remember that day in class when I first saw you cry. You ducked your head in shame, but left invisible puddles everywhere you stepped. Maybe only I could see them.

One time, you stood in the center of my living room and sang the most beautiful, heartbreaking song I had ever heard.
                        
Or how about the time when you said you loved me, but never meant it.
                                                            
I bet you don't remember the night the shiny silver blade  ran across your pretty little wrist, leaving behind bright red lines that stayed for weeks.

Do you remember when I finally left?
You didn't even try to stop me.

I long for a way
For you to see what I see
When I look at you

You sit among those with dark thoughts
malice, malevolence, horror, atrocities
but there you are
with your terribly crooked smile
and those eyes
                    oh
                        those
                              eyes.

That don't stop shining
with the tears
of sorrow that
never quite reaches your heart
but your heart
                    oh
                        your
                             heart.

When others look at you
they see a kind smile,
a warm face,
a heartwarming embrace
but when I look at you
                    I see cruel eyes,
                         a fake smile,
                              a halfhearted embrace.

Your hugs don't warm me.
I only feel your cold collarbone
that juts out against my skin.

Your smile hides the sharp teeth
that bite at those who cross you.
Your bite is way worse than your bite
and oh how it bleeds
but
          oh
               your
                    eyes.

They sparkle sinisterly
gleam devilishly,
cry wholeheartedly,
but your tears don't
          hurt
               me
                    anymore.

If I should die -
                           it'll be because I'm no longer needed.
You'll have found your purpose in life
                           and mine will be through.
I don't have a favorite flower
                          so when I die,
I want to be buried with every poem I ever wrote about you.

You won't need them anymore-
                           because after I'm gone-
You'll lose interest.
                            I'll be nothing but a dream-
a long gone memory that you'll remember in the dead of night
and thinking that I'm just a nightmare,
                            I'll be shut in once again-
laid back into the coffin that you nailed shut.

There's no sense in keeping skeletons in your closet.

Every Saturday for the past two years has pretty much been the same.
I wake up to the sound of my momma knocking on my door,
"Go watch your sister, I'll be back soon."
I stagger out of bed and head on over to keep an eye on my little sister, Raylin.
She returns usually an hour later,
It's 8 am at this point,
With five young girls,
Five very sleepy young girls.

The oldest, 16 now, Adriana,
Collapses on the couch most of the time,
Too tired to make it to another bed.
Roxana and Mariana, 14 and 9,
Will sit and watch tv all day from the moment they get here
To the time they leave.
Maritza and Marisol,
7 and 6, will sleep until Raylin wakes up to play with them.
It usually doesn't take very long.

Two years ago is when it all started.
Having to wake up early to get the girls,
Having to pick them up from 30 minutes away
So they could have a safe place to call home.

Two years ago,
my mother receives a call from my tia Cindy,
"Adriana is hurt,
Adriana can't move,
She went too far this time."

The entire family had been trying for months to get the girls,
Their mother and father a complete mess.
"In love", they called it.
They would show their love with marks upon their skin,
Bruises as proof of their undying love for each other.
My tia Perla would wear her blood and tear stained love upon her sleeves
for the world to see,
But she didn’t care.
This was the life she chose for herself,
And when she grew unhappy with it,
Her daughters would hide in fear,
Adriana and Roxana taking the worst of it.

Once,
I heard Roxana yelling at my own momma,
Who only wanted Roxana to listen.
"I don’t care, I just want my mom, I want to go home."
I couldn't understand the words that were coming out of her mouth.

Later that day,
after my momma and I dropped the girls off at tia Cindy's house,
I asked my momma what could've possibly caused
Roxana to say something like that.
"It's her mom, it's the only type of love she knows."

Two year ago,
These sleepy girls showed up at my house,
In the dead of night
when the bats would fly around,
Maritza and Marisol holding each others hands,
The older three with panicked expressions they couldn’t hide,
The beginnings of several bruises
Forming on Adriana and Roxana's arms and legs.
They slept huddled together on my bed,
Refusing to leave each other,
Shaking even when it wasn't cold.

Two years ago,
These five sleepy girls couldn’t sleep
without being scared of what waited for them in their dreams.
Arms and hands that were supposed to shoo the bad dreams away
caused them instead,
But last Saturday was pretty much the same as it has been
For the past two years.

My momma knocked on my door,
"Go watch your sister, I'll be back soon."
The five girls show up at my house,
No longer scared,
No longer shaking when it's not cold,
No longer so sleepy.

i used to hide here
in my writing
but i can't even do that anymore

lately i've found myself staring at blank spaces
thinking of nothing but you
your face, your hands, your hugs
your lips, your voice
the things it says
the things i wish it would

lately i've found myself relating to all of the sad songs i'd stopped listening to
i don't want to be sad anymore
i don't want to fight the urge to cry all the time
but it keeps coming back
and i'm tired of fighting

i don't write the way i used to anymore
i can't play hide and seek with my writing anymore
there's nowhere to hide
yet i keep losing myself in these words
that don't mean a **** thing  

i am volatile
and all i want to do is hide
but there's nowhere to hide
when all too familiar eyes
read these words
and throw them back at me

lately i've found myself staring at blank spaces
trying not to find a reason to give up

lately i've been hearing the words "i love you" a lot
but i'm having a hard time believing them

I miss you I miss you I miss you
I mistook you for
something that could make me happy

and together,
we set each other
on fire,
watched you melt down until nothing but
exhaustion was left.

Did you cry when you left?
Me, sitting there,
you, in-and-out of bookshelves,
trying to find
what?

The memory of us
walking these aisles,
looking for ways
to keep each other
grounded.

Present.

Present me with
a pair of socks to
keep my cold feet warm.
Your cold feet are frozen now.

And I sit there.
You, in-and-out of bookshelves,
finding your answer out the door
because I miss miss miss
mistook you for
someone who could make me
happy.