its been chasing me for six years.
a wave that i fear will turn into a tsunami,
something i thought i could mend with other people,
finding hands with fingers to intertwine with,
lips that kissed the crevices of my mind,
words that crawled up my veins and pumped something new into my heart.
any element that could contribute to the dam i was building,
a wall to stop the waves from coming again,
where i would never think about ceiling fans and ropes again,
something that would tell me wrists and scissors do not belong together,
a first aid to bandage up my eyes from envisioning what i constantly saw.
every time i had a connection i would hope this was the light at the end of the tunnel,
drove through boys who did not perceive me as worth while,
kissed lips i'd never see again, intertwined fingers with hands that did not fit right, heard words that did not heal anything.
i was running away from myself...all i had done created nothing but memories that push through the walls of dams, making sure the waves came back year after year,
and now i fear to face the truth, that the only one that can mend this current is myself.

i remember the feeling of weightlessness.
i wonder if you're up there experiencing it too,
suspended into clouds and hanging gardens,
veiled in beauty beyond my understanding.
there are moments when the weight of my heart knocks everything down in sight. when the lids of my eyes feel so heavy, when the words my mouth can form are not enough, when these keys are the only thing my fingers yearn to touch.
i miss you even though you never existed, and my eyes create rivers i wish i could teach you how to swim in,
to watch you grow into another piece of the fractions i am built upon.

i told myself i would not stain these pages with words about somebody else again
leafing through old writing reminds me of the countless people that have provoked feelings,
that make my mind string together words that become stanzas as long as the time i spent thinking about their being,
pages i wish i would find in journals of others, printed with letters dedicated to my name,
a way to bandage cracks that have insecurities leaking through,
an oasis of words to caress my soul in the middle of this desert,
and i continue to write about those who will be temporary,
those who will never feel the same,
those who will never fall as hard,
those who i look at through the rose colored glass,
those whose faces i seek in a crowded room,
those whose eyes meet mine and my heart meets its peak,
those who i will never get the courage to tell how i feel,
those who will become another chapter to read,
those whose beauty will live on between the ink and the lines, between crossing my t's and dotting my i's,
forever captivated in a wave of infatuation, kissing the shoreline of their essence.

i remember the way you fell asleep.
the pattern of your breaths would turn into my peace

like a turntable,
your voice spins like a vinyl inside my head,
the vibrations of your laugh echo a melody,
my smile becomes a reflection of yours
i'd wish to paint you the way my eyes envision you,
you'd admire such an art in the midst of not knowing the muse.

there are poets that sing you to sleep and there are poets who ready you for war and i want to be both.

me acuerdo cuando soñaba en largar me del lugar endone naci. encontraba todas las razones por qué odiaba este lugar y era la canción que mi mente cantaba día y noche.
ahora que me voy por seguro, estoy descubriendo los lugares que voy a extrañar,
los lugares que me dan alguna razón de vivir aquí,
que me hacen el corazon latir con esperanza,
un motivo para extrañar un lugar que nunca aprecie.
en unos meses ya no te tendré, y voy a acordarme de los petalos de flores, los besos del sol, el olor del mar, y la música de las palmeras en el viento.