loving you
was breathing hard
as I force in
thick air to inhale.

i forgot about the nest
of butterflies lying
at the bottom of my stomach,

turns out they were just playing dead

got your hand off my hand,
the thought off you off my mind,
the pain lifted off my heart,
your name off my tongue,
off you go baby

letting you go
costed less
than keeping
the pain your
presence brought

I re-release you

blessings
have such a
weird disguise,
it’s almost like
if i were to describe
the heart residing
in that cold body of yours.

I warned you about
the distances
I'm willing to travel
just to leave behind
the trace you had left
on my heart,
on my mind,
on my body,

and now I'm somewhere
making better memories,
with new songs you didn't ruin,
breathing air you can't intoxicate,
wearing my heart on my sleeve again,
unafraid to let my scare away all the wrong
people away from my life.

I didn't listen carefully
to the lies you told,
the empty promises you gave,
and your play-on-words...

they get tantalized
by the way your wings
still flutter even when broken,
like you're some sort of
art to be appreciated in
a museum,
but not one to hold onto
and let their hearts inspired by,
your strength and independence
terrify those who offer nothing
and expect everything in return.

I can't seem
to find the thing
to satiate a need
in me that is yet
to be met,

it's the type of hunger
food can't reduce,

it's the type of pain
that holds unrequited love
for you,

it's like a memory you
want to store in your mind
of a moment that didn't occur,

it's like a fractured ground
waiting for the rain to come
down so flowers can grow
from within the cracks,

it's like love that you give
but never receive back fully,

it's like cold weather and short day time
that beg for some white,
yet it never snows,

it's like not being able
to find the name of the song
whose melody is stuck in your head,

it's like a battle that you lose
before you even get to play.

we all linger
for that something
or that someone
to start up a fire
within,
in attempt
to feel alive
on the inside.

I think I'm starting
to fall in love with the feeling of belonging

If I were to describe emotions
I would say they’re something like strawberry sherbet ice cream dipped with blue raspberry; intricate, intense and insanely delicious,
or a pink and blue sky with a little grey from the smoke of a capitalist factory; placid, painterly, and polluting,
a smile from a stranger on the 8:55 am subway ride; habitual, harmless,

we put all of our troubles away
the same way snow lies on the side of the  roads,
we neglect our needs and wants
the same way a tree lets down it’s leave after autumn,
we convince ourselves that it’s too late
the same way when we slip on black ice.

nobody prepares you
for the day
you lose
your self-worth,

nobody tells you,
"just because you can
do something, doesnt mean you should"

i have nothing left to lose
and so much more to gain

I just want to love
you completely,
unrestrictedly,

but I also have to
protect the very
thing that wants
to that

To my abuser,

I know you will never
be attached to me
the way I am attached to you,

but dear,
that's because you are broken
and you're addicted to
projecting your pain,

and I'm here picking up
all of my pieces,
trying to heal.

I pick me,
I choose me,
I love me.

No,
I don't wish you the best,

because that would be
getting to hold me
in your arms,
just like in the good old days,

rendering me
stuck in your trap.

you envy me for my resilience,

but you forget
the way I break harder than needed.

take your time
in grieving for the
gone and dead,
but don't forget to
bury and release
afterwards.

I thought I could
never feel anything
and for no one
but you,
but baby
you dug a grave
for all the feelings
I've ever had for you
and you jumped in too

history does repeat itself,
I see it in my poetry

the same way you don't
owe anybody your time,
you don't owe anyone forgiveness,
as much as you owe yourself relief,
and sometimes feeling anger
for those who wrong you
is the strongest form of self love.

I gave you something
that belongs to me,
and all you left for me
was the gift receipt.

i love you so ******* much. so ******* much.

what the **** was i doing loving someone else more? what the **** was i thinking?

Hurt,
is not a feeling,
but rather a process,
it’s wanting to burst out
in laughter when you fall
for the same trap twice,
and shedding tears
when you least expect it,
it’s being able to experience
emotions that you thought you had lost
touch of, sight of,
it’s looking at yourself
in the mirror
and loving the broken
version as much as the healed one.

settling for less is the war
everyone's trying to flee from,

but in fact,
settling for less is
an extra shot of espresso
in the coffee that we
drink each morning
in an attempt
to avoid being alone
for the rest of the day.

what hurts the most
is not realizing
how much
you were hurting
me day by day,
and not realizing
I was being hurt
by you everyday

I can sit here,
cry myself an entire ocean
and sit at the bottom and drown in my own tears,

or I can get

my body
misses you
more than it can handle
the pain of the withdrawal.

put a top coat
on the pain,
perhaps
mattify it,
don't let it
reflect on you.

inadequacy seems
like the only
feeling that
chooses
to stay.

no one's past should
define who they are today,

unless their present
is merely an extension
of the supposedly
dead and buried.

my deepest fear is no longer
a bottomless ocean,
but rather feeling your love
when it was never really there.

I can still feel
your cheeks
pressed against mine,
your eyes locked on mine,
your heart beat as you
lay on my chest,
your hands caressing
my face,
my heart wanting to burst,
except this time
it's because
you are gone.

if you think
that you really
know who you are,
it most likely means
that you don't,
your body isnt
the only thing
that ages,
your experiences
grow bigger,
you're like sand
on a beach,
waiting for the wind
to pick your next
residence,
and it's all
too random.

everyone's entitled
to their own
perceptions of the world
and how the clock
ticks away each hour
of the day,

no one should
define who you are,
what you feel,
what you need,
other than the
spirit residing
in that body of yours,

The truth is that
learning things
the hard way
is enforced
on all of us,

Free will
is nothing more
than an illusion of
an autonomy promised
to all of us,
But also one
that can never really
be fully obtained
by any of us.

it's the friend
that's always
there for you,

it's the hand
that reaches out
to you before
you even
get the chance
to ask,

it's the voice
pushing you
forward
when all you
want to do is
give up,

it's the warm
embrace
that seduces
serotonin into
your veins,

my childhood
was short-lived,

my skin was
repeatedly irritated
until it grew thick,

vulnerability was
never an option,

meaning didn't
always accompany
the sacrifices,

I did not always
get answers,
or ones that I had hoped for,


I did not always
have an answer,
but I have always
tried.

you taught me
how much love
truly resides in me,
how capable I am,
of loving, being loved,

but you also
reminded me,
of why I had
built walls around
my heart so high,
that even I couldn't
get a peak.

when we first met
I finally understood
what all the songs, movies,
and stories tell about love,

but only now that our
paths may never
cross each other's,
I finally really understand.

there he is,
25 years young,

there he is,
a dreamer,
an achiever,
big man,

there he is,
making life work
extra hard
to challenge him,

there he is,
entering my heart
as if it's a kingdom,
like the king he is,

there he is,
teaching me new ways
to be inspired,
to grow,
to love,
to be,

there he is,
with his warm presence,
his pure smile,
his kind eyes,

all I want,
need,
and see,

my home.

when you
conceal
and not tell
the whole truth,

you leave me
in a position
where I can
forget,
but can't forgive.

concealment
is just a lie in disguise

trusting someone

is like

jumping in the middle of the ocean,

hoping you know how to swim.

you trap me
in-between your arms,

telling me all about a secret
you have buried
underneath your tongue
for months now,

but kindness
is the only part
of me that manages
to escape from your grip.