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Apr 17 · 580
maria Apr 17
I am always just a version of myself.

Have I ever really known the full me?
Not necessarily.
She is but an aggregation of all the experiences she's ever had,
people she's ever met,
memories she's ever made,
even the ones that have been lost to time.

My personality, speech, and mannerisms are all imprints made by passersby.

Need I know the full me?
No, not necessarily.
Like stained glass that misses the details,
I am a mosaic known only in concept and suggestion,
and this is enough as inhabitant of this body,
even if the resident is unknown to self.
Apr 12 · 649
The Essence of People
maria Apr 12
Some people remind me of a campfire,
a source of eclectic senses:
the smoky wood,
the evolutionary fascination of the flame,
the warmth and chill of a starry night.

Others remind me of a snow day in grade school,
a source of jittery incongruence:
the sprinkles of white,
the disruption of monotonous school work,
the mischief of nature coming to the rescue.

You remind me of an early morning rain,
a source of calm melancholy:
the soft droplets on leaves,
the lessened saturation from the overcast,
the heightened realization and contentment of one's existence.

The essence of people
epitomized as scenes and collective experiences;
it is not so much of what it is
but rather how it makes you feel.
Apr 8 · 407
Your Silence
maria Apr 8
And your silence hums like a ringing in my ear.
My hand extended in mid-air
and yours lingering by your side.
Needed you then,
needed the sound,
but away, away, away you went.
Nothing left unsaid,
nothing said at all.
I just meditate on the lifeless air,
and talk myself in circles.
Mar 19 · 836
This Week
maria Mar 19
Typically greeted with clanking dishes and crumbs on the counter,
this week, I was alone.
Cleared out was my eclectic apartment;
it was just me who I greeted at the end of the day.
I didn't speak out loud as I would,
but my mind had a relentless narrative
of look at this and what about that.

It was natural,
it was lovely,
and it was calm.

Leave me alone for too long
and dim shadows start to look like ghosts.
But make way for me some space,
and I flourish in my own company.
Feb 24 · 296
Death II
maria Feb 24
In the blink of an eye,
our life is gone.
We live the days,
pretending they don't run out.

Death promises us one thing.
It is a final justice.
We beg, and we ask,
and in the end, it delivers.

Fair or not fair,
there's equality in death.
To postpone or meet halfway,
the grave is patient.
Feb 24 · 1.1k
Lover's Spring
maria Feb 24
Like soap, your poetry cleanses my soul.
On paper, I'm filthy from your touch,
and your honey is sticky on my fingers.
But, your words and your laugh are a spring
that douses me in bubbles and gold.
I sip from your tears and sweat,
and youth revitalizes my skin and bones.
You are an oil that enriches
and cannot be rinsed away with water.
You are the dirt that gets under by fingernails
and houses the seeds of a hundred flowers.
Feb 23 · 735
maria Feb 23
Night comes for us all.
We watch as color and saturation leak from the world
until just a half sphere peaks in the horizon.
When the sky touches down and up rises the moon,
it is only its reflective glow that we have to light our walks.

Night comes for us all.
Whereas stimuli and light override my senses,
the coolness and silence of night dampens them,
and with it, my thoughts race.
As my body relaxes against cool sheets,
my mind is buzzing,
and my heart tiptoes from one place to another.

Night comes for us all.
United but separate, our experiences are the same.
We look at the same moon and spy the same stars.
We linger on the same wishes,
and in the anonymity that darkness grants,
we dream and ponder and hope
that something hears us, sees us.
And in that dark anonymity of night,
that subtle weight we constantly carry grows,
and we are anchored to the Earth’s core.

Night comes for us all.
We wait for it to pass,
yet every day, we welcome it gladly
for rest or fresh eyes.
It is a gift and a gurney,
a calm and a casket.
Night is what we make it,
and night is what we need it to be.
maria Jan 20
I always thought relationships ended with anger,
but you know they say the opposite of love is apathy.

Like the death you confront after your fall from religion,
there is no fear, nostalgia, or sadness - just a void.

To not be thought of is to be dead.

I'll become like that pesty buzzing in your ear
that reminds you every now and then there's a fly in your house.

I'll ask if you remember those times together,
and you'll look past me like a foreign stranger asking directions.

You won't even need to say goodbye because you said it a hundred times to yourself.
When you finally say it me, you'll be hanging up the phone, but I'll be crumbling under all the weight of what was left to be said.
Oct 2023 · 640
Good things
maria Oct 2023
My mom and I
sat talking at a coffee shop
for six hours.
We'd never gotten along
so well.
We discussed all the good things,
marriage, babies, degrees.
We said this in a world of
divorce, death, debt.
I said,
I wonder what awful thing
will happen next.
Jul 2023 · 1.2k
Little Girl
maria Jul 2023
And suddenly, as if waking from a child's dream,
I am thrown into reality,
not awoken softly by my mother's warmth
but startled and bewildered to find her not there.
I exit the hazy surrealness of midnight rendezvous,
and the disillusionment snakes its way around my heart.
As if struggling to find my breath or finding myself alone,
I am starkly confronted yet again with my naiveté.
I am transformed into that little girl who trusted so easily,
and now, it is not just disappointment but also shame
that, like a vapor, evades every corner of my being.
To have believed in a dream and my own competence,
I am still that foolish little girl who never learned.
Perhaps, the worst part of gullibility is the knowledge
that the fool and the fooled will always be you.
Jul 2023 · 1.1k
I yelled at him.
maria Jul 2023
I yelled at him until my lungs lost their air and my throat felt raw.
Yes, he had wronged me, but somewhere deep inside, I knew I was screaming at the one hundred men standing in line behind him.
He became the face and the voice of all the men I hate,
the men who have shut me up,
cut me off,
pushed me down,
run me over.
He has begun to remind me of the angry man in my house,
the man who r*ped me,
wronged me,
used me,
left me.
When I say that I hate him to his face, in some ways, I do. Yet, somewhere deep inside, I know I have been harboring and fueling a hatred that was left to fester by someone long before him.
Jul 2023 · 686
maria Jul 2023
She writes about herself in the third-person because it makes her feel more significant.
Jul 2023 · 925
maria Jul 2023
I always wanted more for myself,
wanted to be memorable,
but now I barely remember most of my life.
Sometimes, I consider who I am,
study my reflection hard in the mirror
contemplate whether it's really me
and then ask if this is who I want to be.
What a responsibility it is
to carry this human flesh to the end
and to act in favor of this restless, desirous mind
for the entirety of a life.
Most of the time, I hardly register my life and world around me
and thus behave mindlessly,
and now I'm realizing that time is more than a concept
and that age will one day take me by the throat.
I've tried so hard to figure myself out,
but I suppose I should spend less time in my mind
and more time taking up space in this body.
a ****** few lines about self-reflection
Aug 2022 · 1.4k
Berries and Dreams
maria Aug 2022
I found him in the dim-lighting of a meadow.
His skin, his breath, his kisses
were dreams and berries to me.
Poisonous and plucked from nature's own *****,
I crushed him between my teeth,
felt his sugary rush in my mouth,
and spat him out for fear that his essence was dangerous.
Oh, poisonous berries, strip me of life,
place me in the deepest slumber,
so that I may continue to dream of this infidelity forever.
Jun 2019 · 210
maria Jun 2019
I guess you're right,
what should I expect from you?
The world is cold,
nothing but a pending tomb.

I guess I just
thought after all we'd dreamed,
watching me grow
might have been a priority.

I guess I expected
fatherhood would have come
before humanity,
but I guess I'm wrong.

I guess I'm flawed
for thinking you owe me anything.
I assumed that after four tries,
you might hold some accountability.
just something to get my thoughts in order
Oct 2018 · 184
maria Oct 2018
and you claim
to reflect hate
in the name
of someone's
whose is
your beliefs are not the same as the one you claim to believe
Oct 2018 · 298
A Theory
maria Oct 2018
I have this theory,
of spirituality,
that it is what we decide
it is.

I decide to
accept what I believe
and what I love,
what I've seen.
And then,
I begin to base my
previous understanding to my
current experience.
I have discovered that
God and hate
never collide;
they are
And, I have learned to be,
and understand,
that my God
wants nothing but
the best
for me.
current thoughts in a semi-poetic way
Oct 2018 · 278
That Thing
maria Oct 2018
I wish I could break out of this
This thing that keeps me from
I want to feel that thing again.
That thing that reminds you you're
That you are a
just to put something out there
Oct 2018 · 159
The Rose
maria Oct 2018
I had so thoroughly studied one rose,
had not noticed there were others.
All the same but all different.

The petals of my own, even,
looked different from other angles,
yet it is the same rose.

I had not picked it yet,
realized I didn't need to,
for I was in a garden.

I noticed the image was not my only desire,
but the smell also,
so I decided to bottle it up.

Carrying with me,
lingering with me on my clothes,
not needing to never leave My Rose.
a spiritual poem, actually
Jul 2018 · 593
Favorite Things
maria Jul 2018
Oh, love,
You are my
Favorite thing.
The skin beneath
Your eyes
Is as soft as your
Lips that press
against mine.

Your fingers,
That wrap around mine,
That pull my hair,
That touch my cheeks,
Are as lovely as
The topography
Of your arms,
So precisely structured.

Your eyes,
Which look right into mine,
Down to my lips,
And over my figure,
Are as mesmerizing
As the way your mouth moves
When you laugh
And speak the unknown.

Oh, love,
Your spirit is
My favorite thing.
Your laughter is
A manifestation,
An oral representation,
Of how beautiful you are
Without even being here.
just a poem of the things i love and the things i miss
Jul 2018 · 313
maria Jul 2018
Red is the color
of the blush on my cheeks.

Orange is the hue
of the time of day that we part.

Yellow is the sun
that runs across your skin.

Green is the pigment
of your eyes in the light.

Blue is the vastness
of the sky that we watch.

Purple is the mark
you leave on my neck.
May 2018 · 167
maria May 2018
Do the trees love the wind,
Or do they hate it
Because it forces them to move?

Do they like the rain,
Or do they hate it
Because it forces them to eat?

Or, do they really love it?
Have they been waiting to dance?
Have they been wanting to drink?

Do they hate their lives
Because all they do is watch?
Or, do they not care
Because they've known nothing else?
May 2018 · 157
maria May 2018
I love you.
I do not love you back,
I just love you,
with or without
your permission.

Whether you love me too
is besides the point.

I wish my love
was reciprocated,
but whether it is or not
does not change
that I love you.
May 2018 · 140
maria May 2018
Replace me,
I beg of you;
Believe that someone better
Will come along.

You'll replace me,
I promise you;
My image wasn't meant
To stain your eyes.

I'll be replaced,
If not by you,
Then by force
By someone who loves you.
May 2018 · 120
maria May 2018
I want to scream,
"What have I done?"
But I know,
Deep down,
It needed to happen.

But ****,
I knew not to get involved,
But I wanted it,
You brought me sleep,
And I didn't want to leave.

And now that I've woken
Up from my dream,
I know
That I cannot disguise
that I am awake.
May 2018 · 136
maria May 2018
I run my hands
through the grass,
feeling it's genuity,

Knowing the dirt
is underneath my nails
and bugs crawl along.

I feel it
because I want to feel real,
and real things feel.

They feel pain,
they feel pleasure,
and they feel touch.

I just wanted
to remind myself
that I am real,

And I can feel,
I can touch,
and I can be.
May 2018 · 116
maria May 2018
You ask
Why I treat
You like
A stranger.

It is because
Your voice
Doesn't sound
Like it did.

Your features
And mouth
Don't glide
Like they did.

You look
Worn out,

I have never
Been met
With such an
Empty expression,

And I simply
Do not
May 2018 · 135
maria May 2018
I must admit that
I try to ignore
Any urge
To look over at you.

I resist looking up
When you say something,
Or acknowledging
That you have thoughts at all.

I pretend that you
Don't exist
And never existed
In my territory.

Because looking at you,
And remembering how close
We lay at one point,
Haunts me.

It tugs my heart,
It slaps my face,
It wakes me up,
But I ignore the urge.
Apr 2018 · 171
maria Apr 2018
How can you tell the person you killed
That it was an accident?

How can you tell the person you killed
That they also held a knife?

How can you tell the person you killed
That you are sorry but not guilty?

How can you tell the person you killed
That seeing them die killed you too?
Apr 2018 · 189
maria Apr 2018
All of my thoughts had been in secret.
For time and time again,
I let my emotions go unsaid.

I did not want you to collapse,
And no matter how hard I tried,
I did exactly what I didn't want to do.

I broke your heart,
Actually, I shattered it.
I just wanted to lay it down.

However, I guess I squeezed
Too tightly
Before I let it go.
Apr 2018 · 136
maria Apr 2018
You looked right past me,
Actually, you didn't look at me at all--
Not in my direction
And not in my eyes.

I had to write a poem,
Because you couldn't bear
To hear my voice
Or watch me say it.

I disappointed you,
And I am so sorry.
I wish that you had at least
Let me apologize.
he did not take things well
Apr 2018 · 124
maria Apr 2018
I could live multiple lives
And make up for all the sins
I'd ever committed,

But in none of them,
Will I ever
Deserve you.
to the people who give love to those who don't deserve, and to my God who does the same
Apr 2018 · 110
maria Apr 2018
I'm the best thing for you?
Well, so is medicine,
But the tastes makes you
Spit it out.

Don't you claim such things,
And then spit me out.
Don't speak with your eyes closed,
And cry with your hands ******.

I am your medicine.
I heal, I fight for you,
But my existence is nothing
If I'm refused.
when people search for others to fix them, they almost always will not listen, because if they listened and learned, nobody would need to fix them anymore. codependency is toxic in any relationship.
Apr 2018 · 321
maria Apr 2018
You ask of me
The one thing
I cannot give.

I cannot give
You the rest
Of my life.

cannot dictate
Years of growing.

I must live
and learn
On my own.
people ask you to promise forever and never change. though the promise is endearing, especially when young, no promises are ever concrete.
Apr 2018 · 113
maria Apr 2018
Have you ever tried to hold water
in your hands and
timed how long you could
before the water slipped through?

And, you try it,
over and over again,
squeezing your hands more tightly together,
trying to prevent it from running down your arms.

my love,
is the equivalent
to loving you.
Apr 2018 · 147
maria Apr 2018
I always knew we
would not last,
but now that the time is here,
my heart aches to no end.

I am realizing that
your hair will
no longer be
mine to touch.

I will never
hear your laugh
without flinching.

As much as I want
to hold on to you,
I have to remember
what is best.

We do not work,
and you're going
to leave,
and I refuse

to wait.
doing what is best for yourself and others can, at many times, be painful.
Apr 2018 · 420
The Sun
maria Apr 2018
I missed him.
His glowing presence
And warm nature
Brought back the color
Of the ground.
He brought me
Back to life
After a season
Of death.
His existence
Was clouded by worries,
But he came back
Apr 2018 · 178
maria Apr 2018
i write of sad things,
lust, or mishappenings,
but there is life for me,
and it makes me happy.

i did not know you would say "i love you" back.
i did not know that God was still with me.
i did not know that my family forgave me.
i did not know i could be so happy.

poetry comes easily
from my sadness,
for it is my remedy
amongst the madness.

but i am actually stable,
for i can finally breathe.
i am allowed to live
my life without apologies.
you can unapologetically live happily; don't feel guilty.
Apr 2018 · 117
maria Apr 2018
when you are
without break,
and you
look back,

you get
to see
the damage
you have

when you
you don't
the scars

that you
you turn
Apr 2018 · 110
maria Apr 2018
I am watching us
Fall apart,
And there is nothing
I can do.

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

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

I am watching us
Like an empire,
Into ruins.
Apr 2018 · 124
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,
Apr 2018 · 134
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
To only be
Pulled apart.
Apr 2018 · 316
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
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
Apr 2018 · 265
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.
Apr 2018 · 200
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.
Apr 2018 · 146
The End of Things
maria Apr 2018
Relax, relax,
You will be okay—
Maybe not us—
But it has to be this way.

Do not forget who you are
Just because I leave.
Do not think that losing me
Erases your identity.

Others will not pale
In comparison.
This is how life works.
You’ll fall in love again.

Right now, yes, it hurts,
But it won’t last for long.
Though I leave you now,
Life moves on.

Yes, I know you loved me,
But I am also aware
That a relationship includes
More than just a pair

Of people who are compatible.
Once a spark is gone,
Interests can’t sustain
A relationship for long.

Please, just breathe,
Simply open your eyes—
Can’t you feel it too?
How are you surprised?

The talks we have
And the time we share
Are not nearly as long.
You didn’t even care

To ask me how I was
Or see if we were good…
You just simply never asked,
And I really thought you would.

But, time changes people,
And that’s why we’re here.
Despite all this time,
It’s time that you hear

The simple, disappointing truth
That we both failed.
Putting each other on a pedestal
Results only in despair.

So, yes, I take some fault,
And you should too.
There is nothing to gain
By denying our own issues.

Look forward to the future
And the people you will meet.
Understand, we had our time,
But it’s time you let your feet

Move you in another direction—
There’s nothing wrong with that!
Learn, understand,
But do not dwell on the past.

So, my dear, it’s the end of an era,
But dry up your tears.
We have no room for hurt
Or loathing here.

I truly wish you good luck,
Blessings and prosperity.
And I leave you with that,
Resulting in the end of things.
endings results beginnings
Apr 2018 · 859
maria Apr 2018
I love when
Your hand
Runs from my legs
To my waist
From my hair
To my neck.

I love when
You look
From my eyes
To my lips
From the ground
To my silhouette.

I love when
You trace
From my cheek
To my chin
From my jaw
To my chest.

I love when
You kiss
From my wrist
To my fingers
From my ear
To my eye.

I love when
You love
From my head
To my feet
From my beginning
To my end.
Apr 2018 · 234
Time's Up
maria Apr 2018
I do not want your respect,
Nor do I care for sympathy,
For at this point in time,
All I can muster is apathy.

I do not care if you stand with me,
For all I need is three.
A couple makes an impact,
But a crowd changes history.

I do not want your mockery
Of the truth, of experience, of pride.
I do not care about your status quo
Or what social ladder you had to climb.

So, the black you wear and the words you recite
Are merely the words of someone else,
So though you may think you are standing,
You have no feelings to be felt.

This fight is simply not yours to win,
For light reveals the Truth,
And according to every moral telling,
The bad guys always lose.

I do not want your signs or pins,
For phrases surely die.
Because honestly, we need climbers,
And the only way up is time.

I do not want your petty posts
Filled with rehearsal and practiced lines.
If you really wanted to make an impact,
Stop creating a shadow and donate your light.

I do not want your constant questioning,
For it sounds as though she’s to blame—
Your investigation compares to abuse.
Would you be more understanding if men and women were ranked the same?

I do not want your selfish pity.
I cringe when I hear your apologies.
I am not looking for someone to listen;
I am searching for a stage to speak.

I do not want your worried guilt.
I do not care that you’ve changed,
For penitence is simply up to you,
But right now, you’re saving your name.

I do not want to be your reassurance.
Forgiveness is merely for me.
Though we have been taught by the same book,
Different from yours, my love is free.

I do not want you stopping our progress,
So, out of respect, move out of our way.
Stop opening your mouth and wasting your breath;
There’s something we want to say.

We want equality and acknowledgement too.
We want a changed world and open minds.
We want to finally remove the glass ceiling.
I want a cause for which I can die.
Apr 2018 · 205
Personal Love
maria Apr 2018
Poetic canvas,
About my newfound love.

I think about you
Every afternoon
Until I close my eyes to sleep.

I cringe at others,
But with each other,
Our infatuation doesn't seem obsessive.

Your lips are mine.
You change my mind
When your hands are hard to remove.

Brown eyes,
Don't look so surprised,
When I kiss you like we've been apart.

Laughter is free.
I'm allowed to be
Whomever I **** well choose.

Not animalistic,
Just passionate,
Without crossing prepositioned morality.

I love you,
The same as you--
A shame we didn't have a choice.
To my love
Apr 2018 · 288
Remind Me
maria Apr 2018
I don't remember what it was like before...

What did the air feel like?
What was the summer like before you came around?

How did food taste?
Did it taste this good?

And the ground,
Was the ground soft before its purpose was for us to lie?

What about the sky?
Was it this blue before I met you?

And the rain,
What was its use before we used it as our stage?

The trees, what about those?
Did they sway this easily before we watched?
And their trunks,
What did they look like before our initials scarred their surface?

What about water?
What was its use before you replaced its significance?

And the moon,
What did it look like before I saw it through your windowpane?

Your eyes, what about those?
Did they look the same before I kissed them as they closed and stared while they were open?

What was it like before I loved you,
and what will I do after I'm done?

— The End —