No one can see the pain in my eyes,
I guess my smile is t0o blindin
i am burstin 0ut with laughter,
meanwhile inside i am shakin and breakin
they are with me every day,
so they claim they are my friends and kn0w me,still
n0 0ne can see the pain in my eyes
i have hidden behind this wall f0r s0me time n0w,
when y0u make pain l0ok this g0od it never wears 0ut
it helps t0 keep life's h0rr0rs at bay
i guess my pretence is just all t0o real
it all adds up,it is my fault,always was,and n0w
no 0ne can see the pain in my eyes
i guess i can f0ol anyb0dy but myself
i am here fightin a l0sin battle
the th0ught 0f it eliminates and numbs my tiny bit 0f f0und j0y
i gasp f0r air and silently pray f0r strength t0 f0rge a smile
they never seize t0 l0ok at me,but
n0 0ne can see the pain in my eyes
i remind myself everyday that i am a str0ng being,
0r is that just me tryin t0 c0nvince myself 0nce m0re?
Because s0meh0w my tears have a way 0f tellin me 0therwise
i try t0 st0p them, but the m0re they keep c0min
silencin me,suff0catin me,tearin me apart better yet
n0 0ne sees the pain in my eyes
i cann0t seem t0 f0rget,but
i have f0rgiven myself,i have f0rgiven him t0o
alth0ugh s0metimes in the darkness 0f the night,
my dreams will transp0rt me back t0 that sadness
then i will need t0 wake up and learn 0nce again,h0w t0 f0rgive and be str0ng
n0 0ne can see the pain in my eyes
but i kn0w f0r a fact God is always there
and i feel His unexpected m0ment with me
His s0n did n0t jus wake up and r0se t0 the Heavens,
He w0ke up with a place deep inside 0f me
a sacred place created just f0r me and Him
He wh0 gave me life keeps me alive.

I was thinking about whoever ends up being with me is
going to have to contend with the fact that I’m gonna write about everything that they do,
and there’ll be poetry everywhere,
there’ll be haikus about the way they roll up their jeans in the morning,
and toothpaste sonnets on the bathroom mirror
and they’ll probably wake up with stanzas inked on their chest
and holy hell,
this person had better find me cute otherwise it’s gonna get annoying real fast being with the brown version of Taylor Swift.

I don’t know how you like your coffee on misty
mornings.
I don’t know which rooftop you kick your favorite
sneakers off to climb, what haunts your thoughts at night
or what makes you want to stand up and fight.
But I do know you—and I know your heart.
You are the woman who zips her own dress up for work
every morning.
The woman laughing under the rain
without anyone to help you jump over puddles.
The
woman who runs up stairs and double checks locks
before ending every day.
The woman curled up under
sheets, in the corner of a bed meant for two.
I know you because we share the same heart.
We all arrived here through different roads, different
highways and different dirt paths.
Some of us are bruised.
Some of us are spotless.
How we got here doesn’t matter
—only how we’re tied together.
We are the women who spend our sweatpants-wearing
Sunday afternoons alone.
The women who treat ourselves
to fancy Valentine’s Day dinners.
The women who buy
ourselves carnations after making mistakes.
We are the women who’ve decided to bravely put love on
the back burner.
We know we’ll one day be mothers of
beautiful children who’ll share the same clusters of curly ***** coils on their heads.
We know there’ll come a time
when we’ll look into someone’s eyes and see a reflection
of our dreams.
We never for a second doubt that we deserve all this or
that it’ll happen.
But we know that now is not that time,
and we accept it with grace and patience.
Couples in black and white romantic movies make us
smile without wincing.
We sing along to cheesy ballads
on radios knowing that one day, one of them will be sung
for us.
We go to sleep every night happy no one’s taken
our minds hostage.
We aren’t waiting.
We aren’t still, or
frozen with hope.
We are in a constant state of motion,
dedicating everyday to ourselves and the goals our souls
ache for.
To the women with warm hearts and cold hands,
I hope
you know how brave you are .
Solitude can get deafening sometimes,
but self-sufficiency is a trait even warriors have trouble
mastering.
You are your own commander, fighting
frostbite, fidgeting in your mittens. Never apologize for the
fires you light.
Carry our flag with you and know you’ll never be alone.
Beside you stands an army of women marching to the
same heartbeat in bedrooms that are oceans and
countries away,
carrying the same promises to
themselves throughout their days.
Who never allow anyone to tell them what they should have, or who they should need.
And never let anyone tell them when love should, or
should not be.*

-Naomi Hon

I am a poem
I am a tattooed gospel music loving non conformist who
believes that Christ is just an excuse not to be responsible.
I am an antagonist who believes that God is a constant
conversation with the world and that whoever created the
conspiracy of good versus evil was a genius.
I am descendant of the stories encrypted on the Pyramids of Egypt;
I am the physical manifestation of God, the daughter of Man sent
by the creator with all might, faith and wisdom.
I am the melanin woman who walked barefoot,not because she
was uncivilized, she had a spiritual connection with the soil.
Noble and humbled, I have been shipped around the earth to
mother and father the restless and paranoid.
My teachings are the same redefined theories that provide
content to modern civilization and technology.
I am the blue prints of what is being sold back to me.
With this knowledge came the courage to redefine my self.
These days I find myself within insane verses that ooze with
contempt, cast into a life in protest, constantly contesting my
compromised legacy.
So I live on the battle fields armed with weapons of this world,
fatefully fighting my way out.
Trying to relocate to a place where man found no need to
count the days and years of his life.
I refused to play a part in the rat race of degrees and perfect
grades,for wisdom is more precious that gold.
I fight to stay alive because I am a product of war, while all I
want is to be your friendly neighbor.

The people I want to cry to about the people I'm crying about are the people I'm crying about.
They balance the ground I walk on.
Tomorrow I shall hang my pillow to dry like it's the last time.

I'm listening to your pain whilst we sit in silence,
Shared solitude our comfort when our hearts speaks in
amplified beatings.
I build bridges you will burn with no second thought,
Then I build more they stood a while this time,
And you negotiate with your heart how to break mine this
time,
Whether your hands can make me cry this time
But you see,
Love was not my first dancer,
It's my heart that can carry the weight of the world
I've carried your tears and your fears like they mattered,
I've traded a million hearts just to have your broken one,
I've wasted a hundred tries to see you smile my way,
I'll spend a thousand more to make you feel my love,
So while you break bridges with your bare hands,
I'll break your walls with random caring.

They can't see when they're being loved,
because they've become accustomed to being told,
being promised.
They can't see it.