I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because the last time I opened up to someone artistically they told me it was pretty dark and I should keep it to myself.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because I was raised in a culture that was anti love and pro meaningless ***. I saw endless commercials about movies that glamorize a lifestyle in which your body is fulfilled but your heart is ignored and at that impressionable age I learned my heart came second but my allure came first and the less I cared that happier I would be and I carried that belief around with me the way I used to carry around a Bible as a child.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because of the time that I opened my father’s phone to reveal a family secret I would hold to this day against my own moral instincts unraveling miles of insecurities wondering if I’m not a good enough daughter or if he stopped loving my mother or if true love was never real and although I had been taught marriage was my purpose, it was what I believed would make me happy, maybe rings aren’t enough to stay in love and maybe people’s feelings change and maybe no one actually has a “one true love” and that this purpose I had been taught was really an endless wild goose chase that only lead to broken families and lost souls.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because sometimes I still wonder why I fell into an abyss of toxicity at such a young age. And when I say wonder I don’t mean a trivial ponder, I mean I contemplate every possible reason why the person who I once believed held the universe in her eyes would lie to my face, why she never kissed me in public and our love was always a secret, why she valued girls with blue hair but my blonde hair was not good enough, why I had to hide bruises from my family when I was still in high school or more importantly, why at the time, I thought I deserved them. These thoughts, this lingering paranoia that I am undeserving of healthy love, they muddy my interpretations of real life and distort reality and effect my relationships. My doctor would call these intrusive thoughts, my best friend would tell me they’re symptoms of PTSD, but I have come to realize that I’ve been burned and I am damaged and I hope to god I can recover.

But you,
Oh god, you
You can write this poem. You can be my safety net while I’m free falling in love. You can be the one to listen to my mental tilt-a-whirls, you can be the one that introduces my body and my heart, you can be the one that calms the storms in my mind when I’m questioning the love I’m deserving of. You are the one who makes sure I fall asleep in my bed after drunk nights, you are the one that still sees my value after acknowledging my flaws.
You can write this poem.

Separate beds and shades
Of reds. Intimacy is
A ****** handprint.

It's something maple,
something thick when
you breathe, like dark
chocolate, like tinnitus,
like overandoverandover
again, hard to explain.

I have never met anyone
that could fade and still
burn like you do.

Smooth violence,
bottomless in all its
eternity, moving in water
so deep the ripples never
make it to the surface.

It's not weightless. It never
is, but it waits there, half-
suspended, fixed and
unfixed, solid but slippery
in your hands.

Hold your breath. She
knows you in a way the
angels don't. There's
something she coaxes out
of your chest, something
dark she rolls her tongue
around.

The act of inaction and the
odds, particularly of getting
by unscathed, may be slim
and far between, but the stares  
last longer, everything in  
h
  o
    u
       r
         s

Adios amigo
Say your last adios, amigo
We'll never hear you saying vamonous amigos
Then Adios Amigo

You picked the sun that day and we drank it all
with gas water in the big big hall
Then you bite Volga and melt the ice again
Then vamonous again from all the pain
You were a toltec a traveller of joy
vomonous vomonous life was just a big toy
You had no worries no hurries only for *****
you were so relaxed even with your chikas

Say your last adios amigo
We ll never hear you saying vamonous amigos
Adios amigo

Dont want to lose you,
In the bloodthirsty radious of my zone of alienation,
Anomalies may point and shoot you back,
To your abondoned planet ,
where you came from,
Couples of light years ago

I want to wear a hole
To cover all over my soul
It can be a black hole
And can be stolen from the celestial store
I want to waer a hole
To put dressings on my scars
I want to wear a huge hole
To dispose me whole
And this holy hole maybe
plays your own role

I Took a shower with your scent
Now I have your smell with myslf
On the surface of my skin
Swaying gently in violet
I breathed you and you got me high,
As my ballon lungs were filling with your exhale,
And I was scaping from the gravity
Saying farewell to my own dear ground,
Bye bye my inertial self centered life
As you made me lighter than air