I have so much love
to give, but it seems like no
one really wants it.

She was the subject of a sonnet:
Her radiant glow matched that of the sun's
and her green eyes matched the color of emeralds.
Her wavy hair matched that of a chestnut tree.
Her dress matched that of a dusty pink rose.
Her smile illuminated my dreams
and her laugh woke me up in the morning.
Her loving embrace kept me safe
and her sweet kisses brightened even the darkest of days.
She was my muse,
my subject,
my sonnet.

The glass stained with
the kisses of her children,
of her loved ones,
saying goodbye.
The coffin drenched in their tears
and covered in roses,
and daisies,
giving a little life to the dead body
before it is buried away forever,
with her husband,
who has waited 10 years
to see his wife again.
And now that they are reunited,
they will smile together for all eternity,
knowing that they have lived happily
with all their blessed children
and will reunite with them all
one day
in Heaven
where they will introduce them to God
and the family will never break away again.

Play me a love song
And let me know that every lyric
Is the poetry you wish you could speak to me.

I once loved a blind man:
He loved to travel and see the world around him,
He loved to see the progress made in his physique,
He loved to look at all the pretty girls walk by.
I once loved a blind man:
He saw the buildings towering above,
He saw the darling flowers,
He saw the vast azure sky,
He saw me standing in front of him with arms opened wide.
I once loved a blind man:
But he couldn't see ...
He couldn't see what I had to offer,
He couldn't see how much I cared,
He couldn't see how I longed for his embrace,
He couldn't see how much I loved him.
I once loved a blind man:
And though he couldn't see how much he meant to me,
He opened my eyes to the man he truly was.

I love being Chicana because it gives me a sense of belonging.
I hate being Chicana because I am not a true Latina, nor am I a true American.
I love being Chicana because of the authentic food my family brings to the table.
I hate being Chicana because people assume that all I eat are burritos.
I love being Chicana because I was born with the ability to move my hips and dance in a way most white girls can’t.
I hate being Chicana because I look white and not Mexican.
I love being Chicana because it gives me a reason to embrace a beautiful language.
I hate being Chicana because people automatically think I can speak English and Spanish perfectly.
I love being Chicana because I have the most caring family.
I hate being Chicana because I was raised in a lower-middle class household.
I love being Chicana because I was raised to learn and appreciate the value of everything.
I hate being Chicana because I am expected to bear children and marry a hard-working man.
I love being Chicana because it sets me apart.
I hate being Chicana because I am expected to know American history as well as Mexican history.
I love being Chicana because I was born in a free country.
I hate being Chicana because I feel out of place when I travel to Mexico.
I love being Chicana because I have created goals for myself that no one ever expects me to me reach simply because I am Chicana.
I hate being Chicana because people don’t believe in me or my abilities.
I love being Chicana because I have the strength and willpower to prove them wrong.

The silence is screaming
The noise has grown so loud
My heart is bleeding
More than it has ever allowed

Why is silence the scariest thing
Though it's such a cliché
It's always so frightening
It just doesn't go away

Silence holds on so tightly
Way too much
It creeps up nightly
With a gentle touch

Can I ignore the silence
And not have nights filled with pain?
Those nights feel endless and timeless
And contain a nostalgic violence

Where can I find my bliss and peace
I hope it's not so far
And all I have to do is release the pain
So I no longer bleed and just be left with a
Scare of what used to be