I realized I pushed too far
Inside nature
Stepping over icy boughs
Green needles frozen in time
My heart pounding
Exhausted of the cycle.
There are no birds circling above,
There are no words of comfort.
Just a quiet calm broken up
By the clicks and arthritic pops
Of heavy limbs and twisted gnarled
Fingers holding me in place.
I sit and smile at the crunching in the snow
Remembering the wonderful sound my snow boots made trudging back home for hot chocolate and warmth.

Quote By: Sofia Rojas
The wrong person will find you at peace then later leave you in pieces
The right person will find you when broken and help you find peace again
Both are necessary in the development and learning of your existence.


So many years of trying to find the right partner
all I got was pain and heartache, where did I go wrong ?  
Guess I spend too much time trying to protect my armor  
lost in my loneliness I always felt like I didn't belong;

Then I learned to self soothe and sing my own lullabies
stitched my hopes to trust and prayed him in, Wow ! Who knew !
That the right one would come along and hear my cries  
yes he came to my rescue, right on cue !

Sometimes we need to find many Mister Wrongs
before we can finally find the Mister Right  
It doesn't mean we failed,
it just means your prayer never got mailed....

Flames lick the edges of a city that never sleeps,
where dreams are charred, and hope smolders in the ash.
The night is a canvas of ember and smoke,
painted by hands unseen, indifferent.

In the alleys, shadows dance to the crackling tune,
while sirens wail like distant, mourning lovers.
The air, thick with the scent of despair,
chokes the whispers of those who dare to breathe.

Neon signs flicker, their gaudy promises
melting away in the heat of reality.
The boulevard, once a river of aspirations,
now a barren wasteland of forgotten footsteps.

Yet amidst the inferno, a lone figure stands,
eyes reflecting the chaos, unblinking.
A poet, perhaps, or just a fool,
scribbling verses on the back of a scorched receipt.

“Fires, fires everywhere,” he writes,
“and not a drop to douse the soul.”
The city burns, but he remains,
finding beauty in the blaze,
and solace in the ruin.

When the yellow/green face
of this furnace valley is smudged
with summer's first rain runs

I dream about dad again:
7 years since that hospital bed
in Georgetown where he turned

to wax and I turned to water.
In the dream I was so small,
he took me to his old '80s office,

the tan portable in the field where
everything was cheap wood panels,
thin mouse-brown temp carpet.

He sat me down by his blackboard,
jotted with number theory,
& left to retrieve a book he needed.

I sat among the dry sun and dust
until I realized I was an adult now.
Eventually a man came to the door,

& said "why are you still here?
Your dad died years ago,
& we need the room."

To the caged eye a keyhole can whisper of the sky.
Because even the smallest crack lets the universe in.

Bright moon above me
Ocean waves wash tears away
Warm breeze blankets me

She said,
“I don’t fear the fire—
I fear the incense trails
on other bodies’ breath.”


But I was all flicker,
no extinguish.
A shrine lit by accidents—
my spine a wick,
my throat a reliquary
of half-confessed names.

She called it jealousy—
but it bloomed like spellwork.
Her fingers pressed into my pulse
  like an augury,
reading the tremors
to divine where I'd strayed.

She didn’t need reassurance.
She needed conquest.
To draw her scent down my collarbones,
  to salt the earth
where other lips once camped.

I told her,
“There’s no one else.”
But I said it like a fugitive
sheltering in her mouth—
  not because I was hunted,
but because she was the only place
I stopped running.

She kissed me
not like a lover,
but like a sorceress
marking her territory
with a language written in bitten skin
and satin breath.

Her thighs—
a trap I walked into willingly.
Her moans—
a requiem for every ghost I left unburied.

She wanted to be the only altar
my sins could kneel to.
And I—
I wanted to burn
   only for her.

No more incense trails.
No more phantom mouths.
Let the others vanish into smoke—
     hers was the flame I faced.

And stayed.