i’m only loved

when convenient

it makes my insides churn
with sadness
and hollowness

knowing that nobody will love me
truly

only when it’s convenient

i closed my eyes

and there i was

all
alone

in the blink of an eye

everything was white
and i was warm
and i could hear singing

it was a strange place
but a comforting place

a….
familiar place

i asked
this question with not a lick of malice on my tongue,

“why don’t you ever look for me or anyone else in this family”

and was met with,

“did i do something to you? is there a problem?”

exasperated and stunned

i’m so disappointed

in my mother

you could call me an ungrateful child

but jesus

all she does is blame me
and create all these problems within me
all these doubts
i wish i could say it’s from myself
but it all goes back to her

My mom grabbed my shoulder firmly and rubbed it

“that’s more like it”

with a sigh of relief

her eyes flickered my body up and down
in the reflection of the mirror

“those pants did nothing for you” she added

I looked at the pants
as they laid on the chair beside the bed
those pants that once gave me
confidence but
  
they’ve  became something I despised

not because I actually hated them  

I just hated myself

no longer pushing my
presence

keeping myself for
me

i walked on the water
in the midst of a gloomy cloud

i walked only but a few steps
to my rock

my getaway and my peace

I sat there waiting for the storm surrounding
me
to pass by

it was beautiful

i often visit this place

the question we must come to ask ourselves is this


at the end of the day am i addicted to the victim role or am i actually a victim

you know what’s worse than killing yourself


failing at it

Th greatest tragedy

is that someone who has been loved
denies it

I picked up a photo from my childhood. It was of me and my sister. We were in our little jackets, smiling and giggling. We we’re definitely high off of sugar, always. I saw happiness and innocence in their faces, a type of radiance only kids carry because of their ignorance. They don’t see anything except their own little world. I wished I lived there again. Even for a day, to bask in the pride of my mother before she lost it because now she is only ever disappointed. To easily make friends minus the social anxiety. To walk confidently without wondering if I look too fat or chubby in my jeans, or if my ***** look saggy. To eat food carefree without a second thought. To play in the snow and not wonder if my hair will be ruined. To have a crush and think I actually have a chance. To dance my heart out as if I no one was watching.

These are the things I could go back to. The times people say to savor. The ignorance.

i read that book
about flowers and the moon
i don’t remember
but what i do remember is that
a lot of people don’t love me
their just insecure and see their
insecurities in me

and that



that made me feel more lonely than
ever before

i became who they were
so maybe they would like me

people called me a “pick me”

but all i wanted was a friend

I tried to be like them so they would accept me
but it didn’t work

I got used to the feeling

of being loved

because that’s what that random magazine I found online told me I have to do in order to receive it

Being told your opinion

is invalid

is the single handed most
degrading
feeling in the world

-my 5 mile long tears

blacked eyeliner

and creamed pigment under overtired eyes

curled lashes and a wand full of black hope

sprinkles of fragrance crushed the air
that smelled of a combination of the moon and the ocean

exchanged baggy pants for fitted ones to “accentuate my features”

Disappointed in the mirror at the figure reflecting back

so wish i could read my mom the poems
i’ve written about her

maybe it would bridge the gap between us

come to an understanding

because she doesn’t understand me

nor i her

all i ever do is want her to understand me
but she takes it defensively

it’s extremely numbing and heartbreaking

has your worth
every been defined by a pair of lurking eyes
from someone you love?

they don’t realize
how much the cruel statements
sting my inner soul

not being judged by my character
but rather by the rolls on my stomach

it stings my heart
makes my heart swell with shame and resentment

it makes me instantly reject the body i’ve climbed
mountains to try and love

it makes me reject
myself as a whole

stop shaming me and just tell me i’m pretty for once
please

I layer looking at the textured ceilings
the roof my parents worked to provide for me

laying in the blankets the bought to kept me warm
with my belly full of food that gives me life

Everything serene

except my mind
My mind is tortured and restless

Never good enough
Eating too much
Not pretty enough
Lack of friends
Rarely successful

These are the things planted in my mind
But having material things should be
enough to be happy

So I guess I am

I saw the etching from miles away

Something you pick up right away

Long lines like your waiting for them to release the newest phone

My heart sank

Those scars on her arm
I wanted to tell her everything would be ok
That things got better

But those scars were old and long healed

I spelled your name out
in the letters of my soup

Hoping the universe could tell
I wanted you back

I ate the first letter
then the next
and so on

You lived in my head
free of charge

And you know what I miss the most about you

Your name

there’s so many things
so little time
so much hate
so little love
so much responsibilities
so little leisure
and so on and so forth

Her voice echoed

one of constant criticism
she loved but
saw things through an extremely
narrow horoscope

She loved too hard
too much that we couldn’t see it

She loved so hard
her words stung us
we couldn’t appreciate them

she loved so hard
she did things
that our bellies couldn’t appreciate it

she loved so hard
she taught our minds
but our souls couldn’t appreciate it

all her words echoed
on my beautiful brain

one that I taught to love
because there is more than one way
to things

Love could be easy
or hard
or balanced

love could use kind words
or mean words
or well thought out words

love could be pizza on Fridays
or cauliflower on Monday
or both without judgement

love could be an easier approach
or a harder approach
or be consistent to what you preach

the dust settled on the box
in the attic

all those random puzzle pieces
that didn’t even work
told to work

generations of random puzzle pieces
settling into its ways

And the pieces together
make the ugliest pictures

The world is full of sad people

that’s why it is the way it is

my pen slide

and my heart poured out

it literally poured out

why don’t you believe me
i’m a genuine person

at least i try to be

you
you
you just don’t get me

Each wrapper

Each piece of clothing

Each stain on my suede chairs

Each empty deodorant bottle

Each pair of lashes on the dashboard


All these things compiled into my tiny space
So evident of what’s within
My soul

a million times
you stepped on my chest
and i just laid there

that deep pain in my chest

i’m sorry
you had to experience that

that crippling pain

i was finally able to exhale



i was in the middle of that glass room
surrounded by the most
beautiful of flowers
one can ever imagine

I breathed in again

and it started to snow
of course outside of the glass room

and the snow trickled onto the flowers
blanketed the green grass
and the ambience was that
of a dim snowstorm

we all know it

but in between
the transition
of exhale and inhale
the outside of the glass room
turned black
and i was able to breath again

The sign to my garden
in bright letters said
"DO NOT ENTER"
But you obviously
couldn't read
You entered
and ruined the flowers
I worked so hard to grow

The devil danced
and God blessed him

The angel flew to the ends of the earth
and God scorned him

The devil laughed
and God laughed with him

The angel sought Gods approval
and God became angry

All these things happening on
the edge of Jupiter's rings

The devil and the angel
riding on the edge of
Jupiter's rings

i borrowed souls in my pockets
tucked them away for the jazz party
on 30th street
and my braids bounced against my scalp
as i ran to the party
and i remembered
my ancestors cried over these braids
rice grains
engrained in these braids
to find my freedom
and my children’s freedom
and their children’s freedom
but most importantly
my ancestors cried
to help the little white kids
with boats find their rhythm
in a world that was made for them
and their case of white claws
but funny my ancestors rode a boat too

I try to think about
the consequences of
slit wrists and orange tic tacs

It seems miserable yet peaceful

A place of peace

A place of peace for me
For my family members
For my “friends”
For my coworkers
For my associates

They don’t really care about me now
but when I die they will

They will call us close friends
They will post the best selfie I have and write me an unread message on their social media’s
They might shed a little tear at the fact that they can’t call me to cry about their boyfriends anymore
Or because I can’t do their hair
They will use me for sympathy
and they will miss the whole point


It is about them and what they could have done to prevent it
If they would have just opened their eyes a little wider

Last month I went to the hospital
with
“Chest Pains”
I had a hard time breathing
For over a month
I had this pain
I thought death was in sight
And I had even more pain
When I went they told me I had

“Anxiety”

I knew I had it but
they told me it was starting to affect me
physically

I thought about that...
I’ve gotten so accustomed to
this feeling of
Isolation & stress
not-good-enough
not-pretty-enough
not-enough

Everyday

i always sit in this white room alone
isolated
thinking of how i’m always trying
to do good
but the lives of those who hurt me are
better off than mine

for some reason I just think i’m not
meant to be here
i don’t belong
and i never have
and i never will

full of color
but originating from

love
pain
infatuation
loss
trauma
frustration
distraction
lusting

poetry is a one of a kind art
unlike anything that draws what the
mind can’t put into a picture

I write this
poem

my love

in hopes that you do better

your lost right now
and I hope

no

I pray with every bone in my
small body that you find what your looking for

that thing you
couldn’t find in me

although I know you tried
and I pray you would have

I love u mi amor
te amo mucho

my love

i kissed your

cheeks

lips

neck

hands

but you burned my lips

with the tiny vibrations from your throat

my shriveled lips
and teary eyes were all that was left

it’s always easier
to yell

the

words chew you up
spit you out
and let you dry up

they let you
turn into concrete

and get run over and over and over and over
by cars

the concrete
eventually
gets *** holes
and withers away

but that’s easier

i sat in that mirror

man i stared for a long time

at a girl who’s fought her life

against herself

fighting for this person
that already existed

i thought about younger me

if i could go back in time to tell
her how beautiful she was

that all her battles
she had won

how her hair grew out beautifully
after that bad perm

how she’d grown into someone
who people liked

how she had grown into someone
she liked

all that struggle wasn’t easy
but she won

so as i stared
i thought of
future me
selfishly

telling my current me
everything will work out

you will overcome your struggles

you will grow

you will become someone you love

you don’t have to starve yourself
of opportunity because you created it

love yourself gabbi

i’ve been ghosted
way too many times

by guys who didn’t deserve my time
and my energy

i’ve been told i lack
so many things

i’ve been vulnerable
and it was pinned against me

all of these guys

*** on friday nights
gives us purpose

when

we feel meaningless to the world

someone else occupying our space
and mind

saves us from bridges
saves me from ropes
saves the pills in their plastic
container for the one who actually needs them

a whole visual
based on watercolor and paint brushes

mapped on creativity

the different hues
of pink and periwinkle

strokes that indict emotion

strokes that indict our surroundings

strokes that indict spirituality

and more and more strokes of paint

what if

we could just simplify things

be at peace and happy

love unnecessarily to those who need it
and to those who don’t necessarily
deserve it

look at the bright side of things

enjoy sunsets and sunrises

be grateful for the air we breath even if it’s
not the exact air we want

judge nothing but the flaws in ourselves
and work on them

look in the mirror and see ourselves
not the person we want others to see ourselves as

fight less and talk more

eat foods that make our body smile
and one’s that make our hearts too

sing to ourselves and the world
about happiness

a concept about a world
possible but not

i’d like to think

there is more to me then the surface
that I can bring joy to lives

I blame others for not willing to try
to meet my deeper person

when my deeper person doesn’t
want to meet others

i wanted the classic

“good morning”

i didn’t want money
i didn’t want anything extraordinary

i wanted the classic

“i love you”

i wanted loyalty and trust

i wanted to be wanted


but that is too much

you never know how much
you truly suffer

until you’ve caused your
own sufferings

spooky season

a simple time for fun

turned out to be the nightmare it should have been

“girl it’s ‘hot girl summer,’ don’t get caught up with these ******.”

i understood but that statements was blanketed with unhappiness and insecurity. wanting to have fun but sacrificing so much for it. like drugs and war. we fought for drugs in the wrong places.

legs intertwined
and breath drawn

one heartbeat

and the sad fact it was over

rain droplets shadowed the clear
window

exposing what was there
but could never be