his
nails
slid down
her
thighs
as he
kissed
her
goodbye

he called
it
love
but
there was
something
corrupt

his hands
didn't
belong
there
and
neither
did
his words

they
left her
broken
they
left her
burnt

he's
miles
away
and
she
cries
in bed

repeating
all the
words
she
never
said

maybe
she
deserved it
maybe
she
still does

but
something
about this
doesn't
feel
like love

his
hazel
eyes
and
voice
so
raw

his
fingertips
felt
so wrong

did
she love
him
or did
she love
the
pain?

the torture
of being
forced
to scream
his name

little
girl
gone
too
soon

her
broken
dreams
rest
in
the
tomb

her
desire
to
be
loved
left
in
the womb

while he
lives
his life
dancing
to
his
own
tune.

Cooing Rock Doves dance their circling mating ritual, its spring time
a man with a telescope fathoms the Universe and he says its so much better than ***
all the doc's scratch their heads at an unknown illness and prescribe something of a guess
teachers are thanking God its Friday
while poets drown in their own miserable efforts after looking in the bottom of a glass for days, weeks , months, and decades
this is the twenty first century and not that much has changed, except robots are getting more savvy by the hour.

I wonder how my sister really feels about her birthday falling on April fools day
Maybe she fooled our mother by arriving early, or late
and I do remember our mother saying she wasn't planned, which is really a kick in the face, but then again maybe that's the whole point she arrived on April 1st, just to let our parents know you can't fool around when it comes to ***.

Just as there is no lie
without a kernel of truth,
There is no truth
untainted by human tongues.

Dear Spanish breeze,
You rolled up my inspirational sleeves.
You gave me a glorious sight and placed me in an inventive light.
I call you a thief in the night for robbing words out of my mouth.
You guide my fingertips and the lips of my pen
by kisses of daydreams and endless ideas.
I am a home where the sweetest poems abide in.
Ready to come out and imprint a thousand pages.
What a delight to travel through poetic time of this artistic city.

Dear Spanish sun,
You burned my lack of poetic desire.
You colored my inventiveness like you darkened my skin.
I admire the way you have inspired me to become the poetess i aspire to be.
Your ravishing art undressed the indecisive poetess in me.
So here I stand emotionally naked in front of written truth
ready to loose myself in your Catalan atmosphere.
"Rest your ears darling and let your eyes whisper poetic visuals," you say.
And i close my eyes. I travel through this dream till forever ends.

Now it's time
For you to rest
Close your eyes
Release your breath
I wasn't there

I wish I was there
To see your last moments
To see you breathe air

Slip away
Into an eternal embrace
Bask in the spiritual sense you've gained
Now you will never again
Feel pain

I just wish I was there
To watch you leave this plane
I couldn't be there
To say goodbye
As you passed away
Off into another life

I never got to say goodbye
I will never get to see you
One last time

You smile was warm,
Like June
You're eyes were so beautiful
Like an ocean, blue

Illness struck you
Like a plague
The doctors had no answers
To make it go away
There was no cure
No way to keep you
Upon this earth

Your lungs were like stone
But your heart, pure
I can never find a way
To separate
Myself from these thoughts of you
The warm feeling of June
And your voice as a melody
As you would sing to me

I want you back
That feeling of June
I want it all back
But it's too late