Yesterday she did her best to avoid his defects and to see his beauty.
Today she's doing her best to avoid his beauty and to see his defects.

sifting through old photos
remembering this time
and that
noticing, just now
that half lit
smile
seeing, just now
the vacant eyes
staring at the lens
begging to be let go
wanting an end
to the phony existence
spent with a phony
somebody
trying to keep up
appearances
for the eye
of a camera.

If I was a monster,
I'd be a hideous, roaring beast
who would take on the world
for the life of a seed

If I was a monster
I'd have swirling black eyes
that would be windows to my soul
but you'd never get close enough to see

If I was a monster
I'd have a heart of diamond
Buried in veins of coal
Hidden within the matted fur
and broken wings
My dreams of tomorrow
smashed in pieces
on the floor of my cave

This one goes to the real poets.
To those who decide to carry the world on their own.
To those who carry hell in their head and a graveyard of lost love stories in their heart
To the brave ones who fight darkness with darkness.
Tho those who the only answer they seek from a god is if there's eternal life for their loved ones, because they know there's no space for them in that paradise.
To those who know that suffering is the most humane feeling there is.
To those who loved and hated the wrong person.
This goes to Lorca isolated, hiding in a closet in New York.
To Unamuno craving to believe in something impossible.
To Quiroga drinking the poison of his sorrow at a hospital.
To Becquer and Espino for dying so young.
To Neruda for cheating on himself so many times.
To Machados' lost spirit.
To Marquez and his melancholic ******.
To Poe's tormented soul and his raven.
To Shakespeare and his Juliet.
To Dante and his story of woe.
This goes for the only beings who can live with a hell inside of them, and still manage to write heavenly things for those in need to read.
This one's for us.

You became my idol
and I became idle.
I don't blame you,
you've always been the same.
It was my mistake
to shake the heart awake
was just
to make it break apart.

To gaze from nowhere to the sky
at night, as it is starry,
are all the ways I bare as why
for bright, I am so sorry.