Look her in the eyes
With my own war veiled eyes
Look her in the eyes
Try not to shy away.

Please
Girl
Come back to me
Don't leave me
Don't let this
monster, this darkness
this
boy fitting into the cracking skin of a girl
take me over

Look her in the eyes
Try not to look away
Look and see
All the hidden rejection, the hurt, the longing, the numbness
That you made her feel

Look her in the eyes
Try not to say sorry
Because somehow
You were meant to destroy your adoptive mother
And be abandoned by your biological one

Look her in the eyes
Try not to
*Shy away

San Francisco, CA

There isn’t anything I don’t love about winter
The cold air
The frozen ground
The painted sky
And you, next to me
Wearing layers, making us look three times our normal size
And the snow, that is, if you’re lucky enough to get snow
The lingering presence of happiness in the air
And the sound the ice on the ground makes when you step on it
Pale faces and rosy cheeks
And the burning of your hands when you go inside
And the idea that every single snowflake that falls
Is not like the other
And yet, they’re all beautiful
And those mornings when the sky looks like the shiny ombré pattern
On some dumb t-shirt of a 12-year-old girl
Who isn’t quite ready to grow up just yet
Who enjoys the cold air and the frozen ground
And who loves the snow oh so much
And sees the beauty in its flakes
And is devastated when winter ends
Because everything must come to an end
Much like this poem

You laid your eyes on me and beamed. Oh gosh I can feel my stomach flutter! 
You walked away. I turned away. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me.
Someone is calling someone and suddenly I hear someone calling my name.
That voice, the voice I wanted to hear everyday,
The same voice I dream to have conversations with.

I missed that voice. The voice I used to hear singing me songs.
The voice I used to hear saying my name, sweetly.
That voice that sent shivers through my spine.
The same voice that I hear even when I’m dreaming.
Your voice who told me those two big words, “Trust me.”

I glance back and saw you, nearer. As if you wanted to talk to me.
That hair, your messy hair that goes beyond perfect with your looks.
Those dimples, your five ******* dimples that will only be visible when you smile.
And yet I’m seeing that smile, as if it was made for me, only for me to see.
Those eyes, those brown smoky eyes that lit up my soul whenever I look at it.

But I instantly pushed those thoughts away. Maybe he’ll going to ask me why I’m here.
“Why are you here?” Watching you. I’m watching you from afar. That’s the truth!
“I just want to talk to her.” To you! It’s you that I want to talk to, always.
    ⎯ “I need to ask her something.” What’s wrong with my mouth? It says clashing words from what I really wanted to say. It’s like it’s have it’s own life that I can’t control. Or maybe,
I’m just afraid to reveal my feelings in view of the fact that you might not feel the same.

“Oh, I thought you’re wat⎯” you murmur, “never mind. It’s nothing.” You walked away.
And as your body walk off with mine, you brought my heart but never left yours with mine.
Most of the times it confuse me, why are we afraid?
Here we go again… Afraid to say the words worth saying, and not risking anything.
And maybe, I’ll **** that someone who introduce us the phrase, “Prevention is better than cure.”
As it is harder to prevent someone you love, when you know that it’s them who can cure you.

Wishing you all my readers a very promising new year 2014 filled with all kinds of nice things.

you deserve kept promises
and tea in the morning
you deserve love notes on your dashboard
and sausages for breakfast
you deserve love every day
and to be kissed every hour
you deserve to be reminded
how wonderful you are

Holding me firm, I can feel it incarcerating me.
With my ankles bruised from carrying the same heavy chains, day by day.
Chains, that will keep hurting my ankles with every step I take.
I can hear them squeak, tearing my tympanum with every drag.
Reminding me remorselessness that I am one more slave.
Working under its rules, shaping my life with my every breath.
Punishing me with all my memories and rewarding me with an unknown future.
At night it laughs spitefully seeing that it has caught me in its timeless web of an insomniac hex.
And in the morning it plays the same joke seeing that it has caught me in an eternal doze.
I wake up , following the ritual it has for me, slapping me in the back with its whip declaring its power over me, as my owner.
At 7:00 am  I wake up indoctrinated by a false faith" Thank You 'God' for this new day ( I thank a 'God' I do not know a 'God' I do not follow)" I suddenly feel confuse.  
7:30 am; I shower.
7:40am; I choose my outfit, one in particular that will disguise my insecurities.
7:50am; I  have breakfast. My palate already knows the taste, and it protests intensely for a new tang.
8:00am; I walk out of my house, feeling the wind through my body silencing the cacophony of the chains and the beeping of the time clock they hold.
With every beep, I realize I can be late. I rush.
9:00am; I start my ritual, managing papers in an office full of sick people, just like me.  Moored by their own chains to their own sorrows, with different time clocks and slaved by the same owner.
4:00pm; I plead it to go faster, to show me mercy. It laughs.
7:00pm; It frees me from my work routine, I thank it before it slaps me in the back again.
8:00 pm; I'm home the chains feel looser now, and I have a break.
9:00pm; I eat dinner same flavor, my palate prepares to taste the same.
10;00pm; It orders me to go to bed, to laugh again about by insomnia and wake me up with no pity.
It doesn't care about what I need, I go under its rules.
It threatens me everyday with my memories and it frightens me with an unknown tomorrow.
And, I only have 24 hours each day,60 minutes in each hour and 60 seconds in each minute to do what the calendar of life has for me .
I was convicted with a human felony, and I am currently serving a life sentence in this time machine.
I am cursed by time and my challenge is to defeat procrastination and monotony.

I once saw a butterfly, its left wing was broken,
and it fell over and over, its legs crushed with feeling.

What is beauty?
We ask ourselves as we pile powder on our face like cement over our flawed skin.
Most attribute "beauty" as a physical trait, something you are either born with
or must qualify as to achieve happiness.
I think beauty is in the scrawled message at the corner of a Post-It note shoved in your right pocket
and in the tears welling to your eyes that have not yet fallen.
I think beauty is the hair unstraightened with wide tired eyes
and collaped words stumbling over themselves.

All we know about beauty was bottle-fed to us.
As a society, we have set aside what is and isn't beautiful.
It is unattractive to have acne, obscene to have leg hair,
and a downright sin to spend less than twenty minutes on your hair each morning.
But I've counted the zits on your crumpled forehead
and wrote in the stars the strands of your hair.
Your beauty's unbroken and awesome and perfectly celestial.

I've touched a million dizzy tulips, their heads nod off to the storm and rain.
But you held me even when I was unforgiving and broke me through the icy winds.

To me, beauty is not just what encompasses us, what we are born into;
Beauty is the yet-to-come and what you've tranformed to
after moments of fading lights and sick feelings.
Beauty is weaved into our minds, where no one can touch.
It's not in our appearance, nor in our actions.
Holding yourself high isn't cutting it for me.
Beauty is intricate thoughts, what you desire and feel.
I can't see beauty until you tell me by the dying light of noon
how much you'd love to change the world with your fingertips.

I once saw a butterfly, its left wing was broken,
but I swore it was beautiful.

"Outside fat snowflakes are falling on slanted roofs"
an end of early times whiskey,
with a name that is too perfect,
is at its last shot,
my last cigarette in hand,
I take my time to enjoy both.
The sun is rising.