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 Mar 9 NoHayPila
LS
when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity
 Mar 9 NoHayPila
indi
in soft hours when your heart’s
awake dreaming
and you feel a soft whisper
gently tracing
your skin, your spine to your soul
that’s me loving
you
I want your skin,
Cool or cold,
Before my eyes,
Beneath my hands,
Against my lips,
In my mouth.
I want your skin.
Today was a good day,
but I missed you by my side.
Yesterday was a bad day,
and I longed for your hand in mine.

Now tomorrow is on its way too
I don’t know what it will be,
but I know I’ll be missing you.
T
 Mar 4 NoHayPila
Nicolette
If only I could stare into your deep blue eyes forever,
that I might get a glimpse into your soul.

If you'd dance with me once more,
so I can feel your hands on my waist.

And if you’d kiss me,
I'm afraid you'd make me believe in love.
 Mar 3 NoHayPila
Christian
If I were a tree,
my roots would tunnel towards you.
My branches,
stretching for just one touch.

If I were a flower,
my petals would blossom at the sound of your laughter.
My thorns,
removed by the tenderness of your voice.

If I were a river,
my stream would carve for you a way through mountains.
My water,
purified by your resilient spirit.
 Feb 28 NoHayPila
brooke
I only just realized
what joy can be—
It is a small thing,
I think,

In the back office
at the bank,
If you leave the chair canted
towards the south window,
the sun will warm the small
blue seat around 11:45

It has always been
such an inconsequential thing to me
always out of reach—

But it’s there,
A quarter before noon
every day.
It doesn't stay neat—
nothing does.
Not the room.
Not the mind.
Not the feelings
I have for you.

I spill everything out—
ink, blood, tears—
whatever I hold
too tight.

Even the rain
trips over itself
but you call it
beautiful—
you always do.
 Feb 20 NoHayPila
Yorlan
A veces
el secreto está
en tatuarnos momentos
que nos llenen el alma

en crear historias
de caricias eternas
y besos de ojos cerrados
hasta que se apaguen las estrellas.
Gazes magnetically meet
Across the crowded room
A slight touch of hands as we
Pass through the hallway
I steal a kiss when
No one's around

P.s. no one can know
About a girl I hurt a lifetime ago...
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