Pink Hotel

and behind some bitter, white picket fence
she sat
actually, she stalled.

Tapped her feet on the pavement, cuddled the curb in her ripped dress.
She wore pink in her hair,
little slivers of an innocent, chapped lip.

a dying pink.

The fence creaked with the interrupting wind.
and she stood, danced across the street.

cracked hands gripping frigid door handles,
come on in.

Torn garments, wisps of pink flying from her head,
she felt pretty in pink,
third grade, mother-just-bought-a-new-bow pretty,
innocent, dad-bought-me-glittery-shoes pretty.

Painless pretty.
Sane pretty.

No more
he-just-wants-to-see-me-bare pretty,
he-gives-me-lots-of-drinks pretty,

Worthless pretty.
Lost pretty.

Pink matter that drips onto a glass floor,
everyone can see through it,
through her.

What is it, woman?
she gave her hand to a solo cup,
So alone.
Pink drink, it’s good for you,
good to me.

To the third floor,
and lay down.

do you like the pink?


He always said I looked good with pink.



-C.M Aldecoa

I have excrutiating back pain from carrying double heartbreak.
It has been three months since my liberation,
three months since I stopped envisioning my nails scratching a kitchen table,
screaming out his name, my back arched.
Three months since I have kissed sanity on the lips and watched it undress me ever so gently.

I have been in bed with insanity for months now, letting it tear me open in my sleep.
For months, I have involuntarily let loneliness hold me in the night and ***** every inch of me.

Every ounce of my heart is rolling around in my throat.
It chokes me in my sleep.

I swallow my own tears,
let my arms lay limp and my legs drag behind me.
At night, when the dim moonlight dresses my skin in glow,
I rip my clothes off,
I allow the darkness to follow the moonlit floor, and watch it dance with me, all in my bareness.

I sleep,
it touches me.
I awake,
it watches me rise and take the day.

Cannot lie,
I felt like a ***** when I said good-bye.
Knives cut into my flesh and I bled out in your name,
but *******, did you write me off with a mutual slip of solitude.

Your voice remained dead sea still, calm as a frozen over lake,
but so ******* cold  I couldn’t feel my legs.
You told  me, if it ever came to that, you’d be understanding,
so comprehensive that I wouldn’t feel a thing.

*******, you were supposed to fight for me,
call my name, tell me you love me and that we can get better.
You slacked off and forgot to call me,
when I wept in my own bleeding palms,

You put me on hold.

So you could tell your friends you were too busy to have fun.
As if hearing my lips quiver through a phone was so much hell for you.

You were supposed to object to my stance,
tell me you’d get better, that you’ll remember more,
and put me first.
Maybe a let’s talk this out first, I love you too much.

Because when you answered that phone,
I still loved you.
You never fought, you let me do this so easily,
my hands shook and my ribs rattled and you said,
Okay, I get it. Have a nice life.

That’s what hurt the most, and the stabbing still lingers,
because you quit, long before that phone call.

Now, I feel bad for you,
not because I left,
but because you let me go.

I am avoiding the memories.
Taking every ounce of heart I had and pouring it back into its jar,
storing it in the freezer,
letting the ice form over the fibers and watch the I love’s and I promise’s until they because never again’s and caution tape.

My stomach is empty.
Let the regrets simmer at the bottom,
I will feed them bourbon through a tube,
because heartbreak has left my lips gaped open, dried out from screaming.

Lay me on the concrete, let the heat bake me into the footsteps of every hand that held me, allow their feet to press me into the floor.

Take the telephone wires and string me along their lines, I want to hear every I told you so.

Call me in the middle of the night, high and forgetful of everything we said,
tell me that I am forever a handprint on your chest, a kiss on your lips,
and I will ask whose prints have covered mine, who has wiped my lips from yours.

I can take honesty like a bullet through my heart. I can take truth through a ***** needle, but never assume I could attempt to survive knowing I was an accessory to your assumption that I was merely a smoke break.

Something to come back to in the middle of the night, but can be put out until it’s needed again, when you need to feel something.

After the last,
I remember vowing I would never fall first before knowing where I’d land.

Funny thing, everyone told me where I would land. but I laughed and said no, this one is different.
I’m back in my bottles, forgetting what it is like to laugh sober and smile clean.
and they’re incessant song,
I told you so
I told you so.

Well, so did you,
told me I would make it,
I can trust a ***** needle and let my already beaten heart take a few more hits.

You can spread a pair of legs like a gate,
trap lips like you’re catching a meal,
and destroy hearts like a smoke break,

not too often,
but it’s intoxicating everytime.

I attempted to translate our love in every possible language my mind could handle.
How we laid on the carpet, hands intertwined, eyes locked on each other’s souls.

My stomach churned, my heart beat escaped into your palms.
I had drank the night before,
You could tell, because my eyes wanted to portray innocence, but you knew.
Yet, I wanted to drink your love instead,
It was just as bitter.
Just as unhealthy, with the complements of the same regret the next morning.

I suppose those stamps on my neck never helped either.
The way you managed to **** the life out of me was inexplicably wonderful.
But it hurt later.

Or how my lips tasted like you, I never loved the taste,
But I told you I did.
I lied, you knew.

That night, when you went home, questioning me.
I mosied on over to the glow of my stove light,
Allowed my hand to marry the egg white bottle,
They looked like little sugars,
But I got nothing sweet from it.

Down the hatch.

I called you, against my wall dizzy, giggling.

You love me when you’re lost, you told me,
You love me, you want me when you’re not you, you told me, you yelled.

I passed out that night,
You called me to check up,
And I could not recall what happened,
Or why I loved you.

So I walked over to that stove light,
Hoping the bottle would help me remember,
Just so I could taste you once more, and not feel guilty for never loving you sober.

BRAVERY WON’T ALWAYS **** YOU

I ought to know why you stare at me with intention,
but you treat me with hesitation.
Fear what you know for sure, and swim into unknown waters and learn to love an uncharted sea that knows no boundaries with a full heart.
There lies a shore with white sands and calming winds, the comfort of knowing.

Maybe, you’d learn to love again, if you decided to jump into the sea.

I am learning to love my reflection.

I have new hands,
old calluses have surfaced from trying to drag you around with me
making sure your limbs are all attached to my backside.
Pulling my hair to reveal the secrets I am hiding from you,
you cannot harvest my thoughts from kissing me
let me catch you washing your hands every time I ask you where you’ve been.

My new hands have the desire to remove your hand prints off my sides.
I can see myself.

I have brand new eyes,
and they see through the smoke.

I’ve bathed in the sorrows of every heartbreak,
but this time I’m drinking the water.

Busted my ceiling so I could breath,
let the air infiltrate my lungs and I was reminded of what it is like to love what I already own.

me.