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maria Apr 2018
when you are
stumbling
constantly,
without break,
and you
look back,

you get
to see
all
the damage
you have
done.

when you
are
running,
you don't
notice
the scars

that you
have
left,
until
you turn
around.
maria Apr 2018
I am watching us
Fall apart,
And there is nothing
I can do.

I am watching us
Weaken,
And I am clueless
About what to do.

I am watching you
Distance
Yourself from me.
What can I do?

I am watching us
Fall,
Like an empire,
Into ruins.
maria Apr 2018
And there it is.
I warned you.
The gap between us
Is a chasm.

There we go
Falling into
The void
I told you about.

Here we are,
Standing amongst
The strangers
We talked about.

There you go,
Trying to sustain
A life,
Which is dead.

Here I go,
Walking away
To find something
In motion.

There we went,
The life we had,
The ground beneath,
Crumbled.
maria Apr 2018
Two powers
Of equal strength,
Barely to touch,
Always to break
The other's intensity.

My God,
We are these powers
That compliment
Each other,
Like fire and water.

Who knew
We would grow
To become
Inseparable
To only be
Pulled apart.
maria Apr 2018
Feminism is
Not the absence of men,
But the abundance
Of women.

Feminism is
Not narcissism,
But self-love
And activism.

Feminism is
Not just political,
It is social
And critical.

Feminism is
Acknowledgement
For all the women
Lacking enfranchisement.

Feminism is
More than equality;
It's a future mindset
For women forthcoming.
not an attack, but a personal definition
maria Apr 2018
Outline my body with your hand.
Do it again.
What do you feel?

Do you feel my heart beating, the one that's been broken more than once?
Do you feel the stitches in my skin where my happiness and weight fluctuate?
Do you feel the bones and joints that have held me together for years?
Do you feel the skin that you take for granted?

Outline my body with your eyes.
Try again.
What do you see?

Do you see the creases around my eyes from laughter?
Do you see the places I grip because I hate them?
Do you see the discoloration in my skin from working beneath the sky?
Do you see my breath move my body, keeping me alive?

Outline my body.
Commit it to memory.
What do you think?
bodies don't have to be ******; they can be life.
maria Apr 2018
It's a book of letters to myself
To remember my loss,
My grief and heartache.

It's a counseling mechanism
To maneuver easily between periods of time,
Lonely increments and shallow waters.

It's a group of papers and inked pen
To imprint and scar a white destitute,
An empty canvas, an unwritten book.

It's the company of three dimensional personalities
To converse and decipher identity,
Purpose, spirituality, and direction.

It's a rhythmic set of words
To convey my need for self-actualization,
Importance of thought and a barrage of unspoken ideas.
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