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arubybluebird Oct 2014
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there’s so much harm in this world, so many people right now are broken, torn, dismantled and hurting, and the thought and realization of this makes me feverish and nauseous, and my heart begins to ache, too. my heart aches for them. and I want nothing more than to be with them, to extend my arms to them and hold them tightly, to offer them in entirety what little security I have. to look them in their eyes and correlate. to let them know that they are not alone. that if I could reach into their hearts and take away all their pain, if I could hold their hurt as my own, I would. those whom have harmed you may never come to acknowledge or apologize, but I am sorry. I am sorry for their injustices, I am sorry for their cruelties, I am sorry for what they’ve done, for what you’ve gone through, for what you’re going through. you’re somewhere out there as I’m writing this, and you may never come across these words, but if ever you do, if you’re reading this right now, I want you to know you are in my prayers. you are in my thoughts. and you are in my heart. you mean so much, so much, and you are cared about, valued, appreciated, and loved.
arubybluebird Jul 2013
everything fades
it's just you and your thoughts again
fighting with the echoes of the mistakes you cannot erase
weeping over memories that you cannot forget
        everything fades
it's just you and me and the words we cannot bring ourselves to say
mentiras mentiras, amor, mil mentiras
my body melts under the heat of your nervous glance
I am putty in your sinister hands and
         everything fades to your favor
you've always wanted to be mine
yet I am merely my own
everything everything
               everything fades
it's just me and my thoughts
and the echoes off shadows of your image in my mind
again
tonight and
forever.
                    everything fades but you.
arubybluebird Jan 2014
The sea is mimicking my loneliness.
I offer myself to the sea.
arubybluebird Nov 2013
There is something intimate in the way you place commas in sentence.
It's as if each paragraph alone is a love letter within a love letter.
You say "Gladys, good morning. I love you."
And I sort of melt a little on the inside.
You say, "*******, Gladys. Never, never tell me that
what I feel for you is not love."
And I know it in my veins and in my mind,
which are more endearing than my heart,
that I love you, too.

I hope you can feel the sincerity in my commas.
arubybluebird Oct 2013
you live within the empty spaces of my body
...
arubybluebird Jan 2014
...
and we rake the leaves
and we cage the birds
why are we so cruel?
arubybluebird Oct 2013
Wow, I am such a loner
I am such a loner, wow
Internally, I’m a loner
Physically, I’m a loner when I choose to be
Which is often I suppose
Because you see, I enjoy the company
Of my own awkward silence
Our bones are composed of empty spaces
That are meant to be filled up by each-others words
You need to tell me whether you love me or do not love me
That is the only way to keep me from breaking in three’s
My ribs they are so fragile
My tiny body atop the sheets of your bed, so very fragile
Oh, but I don’t want to be whole
Shut up shut up shut up
Succumb to the glories of drunken cinema with me instead
In your mind
Come, touch my thoughts with your thoughts
Whisper somber poetry into my ******* with your soft chapped lips
I cannot forget the temperature of your body
Your hand in mine is a fever I refuse to sweat out
Medicine, medicine, artificial cure of wounds
I like the way bruises add sass to my skin
Wow, I am so pathetic
I am so pathetic, wow
I will never grow out of it
You will never grow fond of me
What a cycled misery
Baby, baby just walk away

Another rainy evening in the city
6 2 4 P M
001
arubybluebird Mar 2015
001
I know
You are
Not
The one
For me
But
Kiss me
Anyway
arubybluebird Apr 2014
the trick is to keep breathing.
arubybluebird Aug 2015
Listening to Arcade Fire’s Milk and Honey, I am slowly drowning in a sea of memories and melancholic images of things I’ve always wanted but will probably never have. My body soaked in bubbling foam, lying on the border of wet and dry sand, softly being kissed by a morning suns warmth after having been brought back to shore by the same waves that dragged me out
arubybluebird Mar 2016
Today I bought a pack of cigarettes just to feel closer to you
1.
arubybluebird Oct 2018
1.
most of your favorite musicians are underrated
and I like you more for it

2.
you take your coffee with two spoons of creamer
and three spoons full of sugar, and I'd like to drink some coffee with you sometime
1.
arubybluebird Nov 2013
1.
I'm
in love
with the sound
coming out of your mouth
when you say
*I
love
you
arubybluebird Mar 2016
Looking back at conversations we once had
Still unsettles me
And causes me a bit of pain
arubybluebird Mar 2016
The sky is swollen, there is no place to hide
arubybluebird Mar 2016
I wish I could hug my grandmother
One last time
arubybluebird Mar 2016
I miss the times
Of going to sleep
With someone in mind
To think about
arubybluebird Mar 2016
Maybe one day
We'll laugh
At the distance
arubybluebird Nov 2014
missing you is a stupid thing for me to do, but I do it anyway
arubybluebird Aug 2013
la noche es tuya
pero las estrellas son mias.

//

the  night is yours
but the stars are mine.
arubybluebird Oct 2014
standing lovers
sitting down
less human
more being
arubybluebird Dec 2014
The shade of my skin is identical to yours
    But our voices are not the same.

2. You are a flower. A flower is a feeling.

3. I can tell that you need someone close.

4. Our photographs will seem so old to us one day.

5. I've so much I feel the need to tell you
    But I am running out of words to say.

6. Lover, please destroy me.
arubybluebird May 2014
do people write each other letters anymore,
and if so, do they send them?
when was the last time you visited a post office?
when was the last time you licked a stamp?
when was the last time an envelope with your name hastily
hand-scribbled in cursive make your anxious heart
beat uncontrollably?
has it ever?
have you ever?
do people dedicate songs to each other anymore?
do they wait twenty-nine minutes on call
to declare a love in their heart for you on the radio?
do people listen to the radio anymore?
do they call at 6 25 AM
to leave a 3 minute and 53 second voicemail
with Jacques Brel desperately crooning "ne me quitte pas" ?
do people still like other people?
do people still like themselves?
do people know that they are people?
are people even people anymore?
I deem not your response
but my own rearranging complacency of mind
I am aware that I am still human
and although I am not fond of myself all the time
which only makes me that much more human
I am utterly and entirely fond of you
every peeking minute of the day, every fleeting hour of the night
you fill my mind with worded imagery
so I write you a letter
with no other intention than for you to know
your essence is in all of my favourite songs
all of my favourite songs lead me to you
oh, love
love is so human
my love is so human for you, my love
and I'll try anything to hold on to
these sensations a while longer
these physical notions
carry my emotional train of thought
these physical notions
are temporary gestures of my everlasting love
2
arubybluebird Jan 2016
2
If I put you under my skin
Will it be easier to get over you?
arubybluebird Jul 2013
the night is dull
my hair is damp
there are bruises on my knees
your photograph still lovely on my wall
you told be to be calm
my mind is a storm
every poem I've ever written scattered on the ground
it makes me sad
the mess I've made of us
arubybluebird Dec 2015
En la madrugada
Existe dios

Y como yo
Llora  por un amor
Que debería haber sido
Y nunca lo será
arubybluebird Apr 28
i still have so much love for you and i don’t know what to do with it or where to put it but i know hand-writing little notes and leaving them hidden in your jackets pocket or lunch pail or dashboard, compiling it into a detailed spotify playlist, sending it through a lengthy text after midnight, kissing every inch of your face your lips your eyelids the tip of your nose your jaw your chin, running my hands through your hair, placing my face in the palm of your hands, holding your hand, kissing your hand, leaning my head on your shoulder, playfully biting your shoulder, softly kissing your shoulder, curling up against your chest, hearing your heart beat and thanking God and the universe for it, praying over you while you sleep, entangling my skin with your skin until we’re all sweat and sighs and messy hair, dropping to my knees and taking you all in, laying on my side as you take me all in, picking up our favorite bottle of wine to make a night out of with, making plans in plural and future tense -- i know i can no longer store my love in any of this, so i’ll just let it rest here for a while and hope that eventually it becomes a space for its release too
arubybluebird Nov 2015
It is 53 degrees tonight
And my skin is unusually soft, softer than it's ever been
Perhaps it is my body
Trying to convince you to stay
arubybluebird Jul 2013
I cannot miss what we never had.
Is anything truly ours to begin with?
I touch myself cause my hands are lonely.
I cry at night cause my eyes are not yours.
restless, again
thinking of you
while listening to Tchaikovsky
arubybluebird Dec 2014
sometimes I feel things too strongly
sometimes I feel nothing at all
it is critical you know these things about me
before you get further involved
arubybluebird Jul 2013
i deleted your number from my cell phone
i deleted every first every last and every in-between conversation and
message and letter and poem from every modern source you'd ever written me from
i deleted every single photograph every song every "to watch" on "our list"
i deleted "our list" all together
i threw away the sunflowers the roses the button-pins the heart-shaped box
along with the cinema metro and music festival stubs stored within it
i threw away the books the t-shirts the drawings the key-chain and every other ******* gift
i threw away the old bed sheets, the ones we last lied on together
and replaced it with a new set and another's pulse
i erased you from my presence
i erased you of all memories
you're merely in my mind
i no longer need you
i no longer want you
i no longer love you

i - am not over you
arubybluebird Jul 2013
you always hurt the one you love /
clutch your fists, my body craves for your touch
slam your tongue deep in my mouth/ deprive my lungs from breathing
slam my head into the pavement / distort my pastel point of view
color me in misery/ lips stained red/ knees blue-green
skin the sun within my eyes / obscure the light in me
drag my heart across fields of daggers / leave it out to bleed
discard the poetry within me / theive me of my sanity
I offer my skin to you like a prayer in the night
For love, my love, it demands to be felt / And
I need to know that my pain for you is real
arubybluebird Apr 2016
Did we meet by accident?
Or was it all a plan of God
Starting from the womb of your great-grandmother
And eighty-eight unnamed constellations before that
I'm trying to get somewhere with this
I'm trying to make sense of
Your significant presence in my life
arubybluebird Nov 2017
And all I'm left with is nothing.
Nothing is what you've left me with.
arubybluebird Sep 2013
Autumn, you do something to me.
You lighten up my heart and fill me with melancholy all the same.
You bring out my inner-romantic, and also remind me of my being alone.
Yet, you're my favourite. Always have been, and will always be.
If I could be a season, I'd only hope to be as lovely as you.
Let's take a midnight train ride to some place I haven't been to yet,
somewhere far away from here. Just you and I,
and a thermo filled with warm tea, a woven blanket,
a book of collected poetry, a few blank notepads
and the stillness of forgotten summer memories.
arubybluebird Jul 2013
Give me Beirut after midnight on a Tuesday
Wednesday morning doesn't need to know we're here
My eyes so dull of aging compromise
Give me the anticipation that will make me feel young again
Things aren't how they used to be but they can be in our minds
Fall in and out of me
My heart is so dizzy and my thoughts so blurry
And you still so pretty, so pretty to me
I want to write you pity love songs until you think of me as pretty, too
And hold your soft hands through a cold autumn stroll through the park
And kiss you credulously in the dark
Yes, sometimes I want to die
Somehow somewhere I am already dead
And you, my light, might not exist
Perhaps we have always been
Alone
Alone
Alone
But right now while listening to The Rip Tide at 1:49 am
Pretend with me
Lie to yourself, too
You're not too shallow
I'm not too broken
You're the right amount of shy
I'm not overtly out-spoken
We are our feeling
We cannot be tamed
We cannot be touched
Us
We are us
We're in love
love
love
love

//

Leave it for tomorrow to decide what is false pretense and real
arubybluebird Sep 2014
I want to feel you profoundly
I want you to mean so much to me
that I'd die for you

It seems I'm always losing friends
It seems as though I'm losing my mind

I am not your kind
Introspective and shy
Less than meets the eye

You thought you were,
But I knew you weren't right

I want to write songs about heartache
And mean it
I need you to come into my heart

I need you to wrap your arms
Around my neck
A little tighter

Become one with my skin
I want to feel you
in my veins

Make me forget that I am in control
Fool me into thinking you are
my only way home

Because I'm no good or bad, I simply exist
And I'm tired of living
Like this

I prefer small significant moments
Over big grand gestures

Edible as a sunflower
Put me in your mouth
I want to taste myself through you

Raw
Sustaining
Satisfied

Moving five countries away
Will never rid you from yourself

You can pour liquor to fill
The drought in you
Temporary self-inflicted
Oblivion

You'll still remain
desiccate and vacant
In the end

In the end  
unknowingly  
so promising

Something is not right with my brain
I don't believe the words they say
This is the truest lie I've ever written
I mistake you for the moon somehow

My anxiety is here and I am real
Where do all the others go?

My skin falls off of my bones
The boy behind the computer screen
Is the closest thing to love I've known

I can feel my soul departing from my clothes
All of this to tell you something
All of this to express nothing

Keep breathing    
          keep breathing

This is what you chose
my mind is dizzy
my body feels heavy and slow
I am trying, I am trying my best to cope
arubybluebird Sep 2016
Am I getting this wrong, again?
I just want you so bad
I just want you so bad
arubybluebird Aug 2013
Here I am twenty years old smoking cigarettes alone at a public city park sometime around 9 00 PM. There is a drunken homeless man or woman, I cannot tell, staring intently at me from a distance. My oversized-sweater covered back slouched toward the bike riders and family walkers of the night. My mouth tastes of melancholy and syrup. I made love here once before with a boy I never truly loved. It is possible to make love to another human body without taking off your clothes. It is possible to love the idea of a person more than the person himself. Herself. Ourselves. That’s the thing about love, that’s the thing about words. They are used so frequently, so effortlessly, so abundantly; they’ve come to lose much meaning. Meaning. What does meaning even mean? Everything and nothing make sense. Should I be ashamed of myself for having read more poems from Charles Bukowski than Psalms and scriptures from the HOLY BIBLE? Should I be disappointed in myself for genuinely not caring for the pursuit of a higher education? I don’t even want to be a writer anymore. Is it sad that I don’t have the same flame of desire as I did when I was seventeen? Yet, I still want so much. I still want it all. To be happy to be alive to be healthy to be mad to be in-love to be inspired to feel wild to feel on the edge of so much greatness to be beautiful to be broken to be fixed to be passionate to be young to be it all to feel it all. Everything. Every emotion every word every color every flavor every sound every sight all things unseen the haunted the past the future love love love *** faith sin sadness sadness hollow burning lovely days nights evenings mornings cities people their stories glory hunger thirst satisfaction. I want to live in dissatisfaction until it’s driven me to the point of maddening bliss. I don’t know what I want. I never have. I never will. How am I to say, really? It could be enough to just have my hand held by yours. It could be enough to listen to each other through silence. It could be enough to feel the wandering breeze of summer wind coquettishly linger through my ***** autumn hair. It could be enough to capture my distorted anxiety on blue-lined wide-ruled yellow sheets of paper. It could be enough to have what means most to my heart taken away without return. It could be enough to sit here in solitude, by choice, as I am doing---and allow myself to be taken away as well by the mysteries of the sky, the moon, the clouds and the odd noises of the night. Perhaps, we are just as simple as we are torn. We are more. We are everything and nothing all at once. Elope with me through thought.
Close your eyes, forget your name. Here, we’ll never die.
Here, we’ll never live. Just you and I --- here.
A modern intimacy.
arubybluebird Apr 2018
I want to do it all for you
Just for you
Only you
arubybluebird Apr 2018
I hate that you did what you did.
I miss you so much.
arubybluebird Jun 2014
I think I was born to be alone
Nobody to call me theirs
Nobody to call my own
My name is Solitude
Lovely to meet you
Now I must go
arubybluebird Aug 2016
Memory 1:
Cutting oranges off their stems and eating them underneath cherry blossom trees post-rain and post-picket sign protest in Sacramento with Steff.

Memory 2:
Night time, FYF VIP area, sharing a scarf to sit on. slice of veggie pizza, Denisse telling me about her dad, how a beat-down truck with working men made her think of him as she was driving on the 210 the other day. how it moved her so much she ended up pulling over on the side of the road to cry. String of dim lights overhead, Air's Playground Love assimilating in the background of the momentum we've just shared.

Memory 3:
Fourth of July, Navajo woven blankets, lying down faced up arms lazily stretched out in the back of Tia Irene's pick-up truck. talking about how scary it is growing up and how much we fear God. you've decided you no longer want to be a news reporter. I tell you you'll be successful in whatever it is you end up doing. All the while sparks of reds, purple, green, pinks, blues fill the sky in slow, steady twirls all around us.

Memory 4:
Valentine's Day, car parked a few minutes away from where we're walking to. An empty construction site with a view that overlooks our city. you set down the box of pizza, take off your backpack, set out a blanket, a candle, two glass cups rolled up in San Bernardino Sun, a bottle of wine. Tell me to dig in, I pull up the lid, it's shaped like a heart. You didn't realize the wine had a cork, try pulling it off with your teeth. We forget the wine, play The Doors from your cellphone instead, they've finally been added to Spotify, we comment on this. Lying next to each other, my neck cradled in your arm, the warmth of your skin transcends from the wool of your shirt. A shooting star passes the auburn sky like lightning, said you missed it, had your eyes closed. I close mine shortly after, too.

Memory 5:
Everyone is huddled in the living room, a serenade of whispering and sssh she's coming. Tio Frank and Dad have the wheelchair turned around, your back facing us as you enter the door. They move you down the steep of the entrance, you look up, Las Mañanitas starts to play from the stereo, welcome home! You cradle your head in your hands and begin to cry. We reach out to hold you, crying, too.
arubybluebird Aug 2016
My grandmother from Mexico used to use this Jergen’s face cream that she would call “la crema de las tres caritas,” and every time my dad would go visit her from the states she wouldn’t ask him for anything except to bring her one, and he always would. With time, even when he would make surprise visits, he always made sure to take her a tub of her tres caritas.

I ended up meeting my grandmother when I was about nine, ten years of age, and after that I only saw her once more before she passed. I don’t recall much of our encounters, I don’t really remember what her voice sounded like or the words we exchanged. But I remember her embrace, hugging her for the first time and feeling an immense sense of warmth and love in its purest, grounded form. She had womanhood in her arms, an airy sense of strength, tenderness, and compassion even though I was just a child and couldn’t pin down the feeling just then. It was a unique hug and comfort that only a grandmother could give, and it has come to mean more to me now as a young woman that it ever has, now that I understand. The encouragement and reassurance of her hug has remained with me through the calamity, sufferings, and heartaches of my life; just as she intended.

What I do vividly remember is the complexion of her face. A caramel bronzed, subtly creased, pearly glow. Observing this for the first time as a child, I knew the reason why, and it brought me joy. After that, whenever I was at the store and came across the pink lidded Jergen’s it warmed my heart, it still does. I asked my mom if she could buy me one when we were shopping at Walmart once, and from then on I’ve continued buying and using it. It’s been about thirteen years now, and sometimes when I put some on early morning or at night before going to bed, it makes me think of her, oh her glowing face, of her radiating warmth, and in some silly way it makes me feel close to her, like that first and last embrace we shared that I don’t think I’ll ever come to forget.

It kind of blows me away, in retrospect, how simple objects, little things, how everything seamlessly has the potential to intertwine with significance and meaning. All of this means so much to me.
arubybluebird Jun 2014
don't forget the red stained kiss marks I left on your cheek everytime we used to say goodbye. don't forget the time we stood shoulder to shoulder on the edge of the sea, our toes soaked in mud, oceans tide at our knees. remember the breeze, how it lingered through our hair, how it left shivers on our skin. remember how we felt, even if we no longer feel.

baby, remember when you loved me.
arubybluebird Jul 2017
Tell me you want to kiss me. Tell me that it's ruining you to consider that this may be the last time we'll ever see each other. Tell me that it's only been three hours, but already a hollowness is starting to form in your heart. You are not a coward. Tell me. Ask me. Make me yours.
arubybluebird Oct 2017
I hope that the tender look in my eyes
Draws you away.
arubybluebird Aug 2014
Wednesday night. Making a list of places to visit and languages to learn. Listening to rebroadcasted recordings of Pablo Neruda poetry readings. Wishing I were in New York, wishing it were 1966. Some things are better seen with closed eyes. Some things are felt most without touch. I hope the cause of my death the day it comes is due to some sweet tragedy such as that of drowning in the depths of my own heart.
arubybluebird Aug 2013
I'd rather lose my
virginity
than lose my
              compassion .

*at what age did you lose your compassion ?
arubybluebird Oct 2013
Angel, I feel sad
What a stupid thing to feel
But I do, for you.
The lonesome feeling is mutual.
I've replayed your words in my head probably more than I should
And I want to cry
What a stupid thing to want
But I do, for you.
There’s this indiscreet place within my body
That refuses to acknowledge that what you say you feel is real
Through photographs and words, I let the world know that I love him
Through photograph and words, I try convincing myself that I do
There’s a chance that these same words and photographs taint your heart
A little, just a little, it could be.
I've never acknowledged this thought until now
And the slight realization of it turns my stomach.
You are not a poem.
You are its meaning.
I’ll still be here after the parting
You’re with me until my bones decay.
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