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Ava Ayo Mar 2015
I like looking at the narrow spaces
Between houses as the train passes by.

I like looking at the narrow spaces
Because they remind me of my childhood.
The empty narrow inches of space
Between two enormous brick houses
I'd obliviously pass by while playing tag,
Smiling from ear to ear,
Leaving only a narrow space for my teeth.
Running from dusk until dawn,
Leaving only a narrow space for bruised knees and tears.

And now the narrow spaces I pass every day
Between worn out houses in the city
Remind me of my heart.
So big, yet so full of others' pain
That all I have is narrow spaces
Reserved for my own joy.
And now the narrow spaces I pass every day
Between graffitied houses in the city
Remind me of my brain.
So tagged with useless information,
Yet so little space to paint true knowledge on.

And so I stare at the narrow spaces
Between houses as the train passes by
While I'm on my way
To waste the tiny chunks of time I have left
Hoping to widen the narrow spaces
Of my soul.
Ava Ayo Feb 2015
You say you know me,
But you don’t know me because you tried,
You know me because I made myself known.

You only know my favorite flowers are lilacs because
I’d make you stop your truck so I could pick them off of strangers’ yards
You only know my favorite color is yellow because
I’d pick up yellow paint shades every time you dragged me to Lowe’s
You only know I love the smell of cigarettes and coffee because
I’d breathe in deeply the combination of their aromas,
With a Marlboro on one hand and a frappe on the other.

And anything that I cannot show you
You cannot know, because
You cannot look into my eyes and
See what lies behind them.
You say you know me, but
Do you really?
Ava Ayo May 2013
Things I’ll miss from Earth:

The smell of the beach,
Sun, sand and salty water serenely as one.
The aroma that lingers every time
I gently lay my head on his chest.

The beats and bass of summer songs,
Caressing my ears as I stomp on the accelerator,
Wind from the sunroof adjusting my golden locks.
The melody in my mom’s voice
As she quietly hums while rinsing the dishes,
Bubbles of soap floating up from the sink.

My innocent childhood,
Racing bikes downhill and helplessly braking,
Blowing burnished bubbles for hours and hours,
Sun tanning in the backyard, eyes closed,
Picturing palm trees and coconuts,
My heartbeat matching the waves: swish, swoosh.

My dad’s mouth-watering steak,
The unavoidable aroma lingering through the house,
Juices dripping off the baking pan,
Forks and knives prepared for feast.

Strolling along the street of my first abode,
Carefully examining the ground,
Wary to step on the wobbly cobblestones,
Creaking open the old wooden door into my stone yard,
Climbing the three humongous steps into the foyer.

Most of all, I’ll miss the hope.
The hope that pulls me out of bed every morning.
The hope that this life is worth my sacrifices.
The hope that pain will no longer surround me,
Not even a pinch.
But even though I’ll be dead,
My hope will live on,
Surrounding those left behind,
The ones that need it the most.
Ava Ayo May 2013
Those beautiful green eyes glance at me
And meet my gaze in the almost darkness
A comfort so novel yet so familiar
Settles into my chest.
Your bronze skin intensified,
Your hand slowly traveling across my thigh
Sends shivers down my leg guided by your hand
And I savor the moment,
Because soon I’ll be heading home alone
Wishing I could stay but we both know he’s waiting
And I can’t bring myself to deceive him
But this unwanted thought interrupts,
As you maneuver my chin closer
And you lean in forcefully, kiss me madly
Passion searing through your lips, your tongue,
Your scent imprints my clothes, unforgettable
Then you lift up my shirt, a cold hand on my stomach.
Don’t make me do it. Don’t make me stop you.
I gather all my strength, weak from your spell
And I stop your hand from ascending further.
Your eyes depict hatred - no - disappointment.
You don't want this more than me - I swear.
See, all guys like you have great potential.
You can make a girl fall in love with just a snap of your fingers,
But you always choose to shatter the fairy tale
With a hand that reaches too far.

— The End —