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Andrea Garcia Oct 2022
When I hear it's not enough
I often wish time to stop
But I remember to breathe
I count
One...


Two...


Three...


I can feel my skin
My body trembles like a leaf in the wind
Is this autumn or spring?
I thought I heard a bird sing
Yet this cold gentle breeze
Oh wait...
Remember to breathe
One...


Two...


Three...


I'm here. I'm here.
Andrea Garcia Jun 2017
There was no before or after you
You didn't cut my life in half
You were just a blur
and a blur can't be loved or hated
blurs can barely be seen
blurs have no definitions
blurs are forgotten with ease
So don't worry stay calm
Don't pity me
Don't feel like you need to apologize
Because there is no need
I have already made peace with myself
And you are not in it
So, Blur away... Blur away
When life is sometimes hard... just blur away
1720

Had I known that the first was the last
I should have kept it longer.
Had I known that the last was the first
I should have drunk it stronger.
Cup, it was your fault,
Lip was not the liar.
No, lip, it was yours,
Bliss was most to blame.
If I'm the guy who waits,
is there some way?
Cause here I am,
I was, I remain.
The aging clocks face,
ticks out each second passed,

and here I am regardless.

Caught up in fairy tale nostalgia,
forgiven all the wrongs,
hurt endured,
selecting only the best
and cherished
fleeting
flickers of glimpses
at night
just as I fade
to the place where you still come

there too, not always pleasant.
Sometimes I wake and ache so bad
but the cause of that is you
Will I ever turn you out,
face away?
Is this time squandered,
wasted, fruitless?
Or one day are we going to be, again?
Am I okay with no love unless,
unless...
if nothing changes,
distance remains,
who to blame
but my own cowardice.

Some day,
. . . . . . . . . one day,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . maybe,

hearts can change
  Dec 2014 Andrea Garcia
i
i wanna be pretty for you,
even when
my mascara runs
down my cheeks
and my lipstick
is smeared and
when my hair is tangled
and when my eyes are
bloodshot and
i'm drunk outĀ of my mind
and calling for you,
mumbling and screaming your
name at the top of
my lungs and when
i smoke my first cigarette
and the smoke that comes out
of my mouth looks so much
like you and the nicotine
runs through my veins
and the smoke clogs my lungs
just like you did
and when i look
in the bathroom mirror,
and i see you in my eyes
and i start crying
even though i hate crying
over you and i just wanna
be pretty enough for you, love.
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