My heart hasn’t beat since you told me you didn’t care about me as much as I did for you

My throat hasn’t stopped aching in agony from all the cries trying to scratch their way out of my mouth
I shut them in as if that will silence them

My body won’t stop shaking from the impact you had on me
I wish I could say it was the good kind

I want to stop this pain, I’m hurting while you feel as light as a feather

I’m the extra weight you finally loss

There’s nowhere for me to go anymore 

Sometimes I wish I could be the one inflicting the pain 

That’s just not in my nature
I am a leaf, providing a cushioned and safe spot to fall for the raindrops
I am the sunlight warming up all the dreary cold
I am the bed you fall into when you have no motivation, I will fill you with enough love to get up and trudge through the hardship in store

I am always there supporting and giving you secret pushes towards the passion you seek

I still only want the best for you

Missing you is like floridas weather

constant

Is the year I stop picturing how you would be a year older if you didn't die the year I move on

Or is it the year I forget you

I tell you My body aches to leave this room, see what is beyond these four striped walls.

You say that all I need is in here, there’s no reason to go
.
I tell you I feel like a bird in a cage, let me out so I may sing
.
You say my voice sounds fine in here, so sing on.
I tell you my eyes are turning to dust from whirling around in circles trying to find something unfamiliarly new.
You say stop rolling your eyes
.
I tell you my limbs feel heavy attached to me, that my shoulders can not bear the weight of my discombobulated thoughts anymore.

You say then solve the puzzle.

I tell you I need to remove a piece of the puzzle for it to be complete.
You say then remove it and move on
.
I gently open the door and see past the four striped walls.

She sits you across from me on the worn leather armchair
I say we need a break

Your jittering is shaking the entire chair, you bounce your knee, your fingers pretend they are playing an imaginary song on the piano that only you may hear.

You are everything I despise In myself.

I say you’re smothering, I need a life without you breathing down my neck. I’m starving for air, I need serenity and calmness.

you make me not want to wake up some mornings
.
You hate confrontations, I see you’re beginning to look around for an escape or an excuse. Your eyes start to have the glassy, hazy look that I’m highly accustomed to by now

I say I miss my old self, the one that didn’t close everyone off or act like she didn’t have a wall around her at all times. My mind never stops over analyzing conversations and situations. I miss not ending relationships for fear of the pain they could cause me, I miss out on the happiness they could bring me
.
I miss freedom.
You wring your hands and make believe you are zoning off so you don’t have to acknowledge this.
I say I want my mind to be silent, no more stressing over things out of my control. I want to enjoy everyday without having to remind myself to breath in and out. You follow me everywhere, you made me have an attack in the bathroom at school, it’s become too much to bear now.
My mind has resorted to thinking that maybe medicine can help us.

We’ll be together till the day we die you say, you can’t rid of me you can only put me off for another time, I will always come back. I won’t ever leave you like you do to so many people you care about, I’m here for the long run.

You have to learn how to live with me
.
I take a good look at you and see myself.

Hushed silence fills the room
Do we celebrate or mourn?
For a birthday is a useless attempt when your singing to a ghost.
A birthday is life, it is a room full of windows with the sun settling on your face, acting as a warm comforting hug. It is a scent that appears and makes you reminisce about a certain time in your childhood when you smelt that exact scent, it is the rare moment when your mind is at ease and silent with no burdening thoughts. It is what you brought to the world not what you took away from it.
What a paradox, how death makes us write about life.
Do we celebrate or mourn?

I used to say labels were nonsense.
That’s easier to say when your not stuck dazedly in chest deep mud, befuddled to how you even allowed yourself to get this far in
I’ve come to terms that i pathetically need a simple word to fall back on, a carefree shrug and the word “friends” simply just isn’t cutting it for me anymore.

Time always gets in the way, at least in your case and what a big ****** time tends to be, selfish-oblivious (Maybe I’ve begun talking about you)
.
My brain hurts from the constant back and forth thoughts pinging around my skull.

My migraines have come back with a vengeance, sometimes I imagine they’re you.

They say men’s thoughts get stored away in square compartments, tucked safely away and organized, free to visit another time. while a woman’s thoughts are similar to spaghetti
.
I use that as reasoning to why you stay so calm ( i always make up excuses for you to ease my rage).

I need peace and you’ve brought havoc over me, thing is you probably have no clue.
I’m afraid, out of my comfort zone and my trust is laid out on a counter with a knife beside it
.
Your call

I am from soft hushes of Spanish lullabies

From the coaxing voice of my mother.

I am the smoke blowing out of Lionel trains

Orders being asserted on the speaker overhead

From the controlling voice of my father.

I am from the hiding spots around the house

The muffled loveless shouting 

Serving as a backdrop throughout the days

A one-sided bitter sham.

I’m from simmering heat year round 
From king the tut and Felix the cat.

I’m the happy go lucky type on the outside

And the riddled with worry on the inside.

From let’s wing it! On some days 

To a sense of working myself sick to be prepared on others.

I’m from steaming milk and coffee 
With some hurricane pancakes 

To temporarily erase the pains of yesterday.

I’m from a locked away Spanish origin 
English and American hammered into my brain.

(Never my soul.) 

From the son my grandmother lost

To the black storming water,

The life my father was forced to replace.

Spanish poems rest dusty hidden away.

Turning a blind eye

Only looked over in secrecy 

Our artistic side

A lineage of writers, artists.

I am those words 

They are my second skin

Rising from the shadows.