Pain and agony were just an
'inseparable aspect of love's genetics.'
But I am certain
that love doesn't burn skin.
Malice, rejection, jealousy,
and abandonment
tend to set bodies ablaze.

Not love.
Love is the kindest,
passionate, and tender-hearted
emotion in this world.
Do not take sorrow
or disappointment
for love.

Love is butter.
Smooth and flavorful...
Even if it burns black
in the pan.
Butter can't burn skin.
It touches
and melts.

They never mentioned
That the smell of aftershave
And toothpaste
Would be triggering.

Forgot to say I was destined
To be what twisted men crave -
My skinny waist,
His slithering.

Cannot sleep on a waterbed.
Fear that the waves will move
Unsteadily,
Irregularly.

Threw away purple bedspread.
Prayed its absence would improve
Sleeping,
Dreaming

I recognize his twins
At work, the store, and on the street.
Unable to breathe.
Petrifying.

Their crooked grins
Calloused hands, tight grips, yellow teeth
Calls me 'sweetie'
Triggering.

He's been wearing white
For the past few months
Trying to prove
That he is blameless

I like to think there's
A cast on his knee
Because he prayed for
Forgiveness... and me

I'm sure there's a frown
Painted on his face
Due to the lack of
What we used to be

Karma's out to knock
Him off of his throne
No sympathy when
He comes crashing down

pitter patter
whispered the rain
the *pitter patter
of my feet

the soothing voice
of rainfall.
my tender song
at night.

crackle crack
shouted the sky
the crackle crack
of my spine

the tendency
to downpour.
my willingness
to break.

purr thrum
hums the drizzle
the purr thrum
of my breath

the gentle
way to fall.
my softness
in sleep.

I have covered the mirror
With notes and quotes

Painted the white walls
With acrylic and oils

Washed my spotless car
Repeatedly

Aired my apartment
Completely

I have written words
On wingspans

Carved phrases
Into his hands

Burned candles
Down to nothing

And left lights on
To hear the buzzing

I eyed my reflection
As I swore:

"I do not love him
Anymore"

Tragedies catch me
When I least expect them.

Coming for me,
Leading to the slaughter.

The length of your hands
Reflects the disaster.

You led me with smiles
And slippery palms.

Calloused, indifferent,
Due to the toil,

Repeating the process
Once again.

Google search:
What happens
During a miscarriage?

A friend asked
For encouraging words,
I didn't have enough.

I don't know what it's like
To lose your own
Flesh and blood.

All I know
Is what it's like
To lose you.

After I comforted
Her with words
That could never be enough,

I thought
Of
Your eyes.

We used to whisper
About our future -
Predicted the faces of newborns.

I've dreamt about
Our false
Daughter.

Her caramel skin:
Ecuadorian
Soft brown eyes:
Similar to yours

She's real.
In another lifetime,
In a parallel universe,
She's real.

Perhaps all the children
Who were meant to be
But never were
Are in the same space.

The many who appear
Through exciting
Positives.

And the few who
Never get
The chance.