You are not real
anymore,
you are not mine
forever;

instead, you are
disintegrating
as I strip apart the memories
and shake out
the sadness -
not a real
sadness, but an emptiness
I may never understand

so I'll write until I do,
or until I've erased
the last traces of you

Emptiness is less
a symptom, and more a mode
of pure rehearsal.

Is there, perhaps, some class
I could enroll in that might
increase my chances of understanding
the exact circumstances
I am in because I'd like to think
that time itself does tell
the roundabouts of where
I ought to be ten years
from now, but if that were so
then why am I
still sitting here a year
from graduation in an introductory
course on evolution.

haven’t held a hand
in three years,
and I’m starting
to think
that makes me
less of a human
being

Society defines me
in one of two hues; either I present
myself in solitary stains of black -
pushing against the many
men trying to please their
prying fingertips;
or I pull fast - the blinding
white of a greedy need
so deep it carries the weight
of every woman, and with my emptiness
I taint the female race
blank - no clear definition (just vines
reaching for stability); strange,
how people crave
definitions when the world
paints itself so beautiful
in all the colors we neglect.

yo lo quiero mas, mas por favor*

in a foreign country with foreign tongue

he touched her there beneath the tree

dark skin, soft eyes, sweet words

she gave in to the wishes and kisses

of an eager costa rican man.

he lured her into his dorm room

her first time there between

the toilet and the shower - steam

fogging the cracked mirror - steam

meant to distill the unmistakable smell

of the crushed greens she inhaled deep

swallowing the fiery magic as he

slipped beside her wanting

to be inside her, he massaged her

back, her shoulders, inching his fingers

up along the sides of her slender

neck trying to knead his way into her

mind the way he wanted, needed

to give her another mind-blowing

experience right there between

the toilet and the shower - steam

turning into sweaty rivulets down

the crack of an arched back - but

submitting to the aching desires

of hungry men was an act

she knew far too well and so -

between the toilet and the shower and the steam

she saw temptation as it was -

a slimy red-eyed serpent

begging her to stay.