Not quite white
Not quite latino
Not quite anything

Too dark to be white
Too light to be latino
Too mixed to be anything

Not quite that language
Not quite that accent
Not quite anything

Too feminine for this
Too masculine for that
Too mixed to be anything

Not quite this thing
Not quite that thing
Not quite anything

Poetry
to me
is taking
my pain
and making
it sing.

i think of what i was looking forward to this season
most of it was you
untouched promises of kisses under the mistletoe
we were too far away to pull through
shattered remembrances of my love are swirling in my brain  
something i bet doesn’t happen to you
heartbreak is the flavor this season
it always has been but now i can add onto the list of reasons

you

He is the color yellow,
My happiness.
He is the sunflower,
My favorite color.
He faces up to the sun,
Blinds himself,
But I am right beside him,
Grey.
Illuminated by his bright touch,
I feel the color creep up my spine.
He makes me feel red.

You look at my body
And tell me i'm pretty
I turn away and you say
"Dang what a hottie"

Why is it that every time i hear
a catcall or whistle
instead of feeling good  
I turn in anger and I bristle

I wish when you saw my curves
you wouldn't gawk
instead walk over to me
and let's talk

I feel nasty in my own skin
I shrink out of embarrassment
uncomfortable in the only place I've ever been
wishing more than anything that I had no body

I fear that the only reason you like me
is not for my heart
wish that wasn't how it has to be
but that's how it's been from the start

So I will ask now
how
when
who
will love me, for me?

She has decided to walk away
Because, you did not treat her right
Nothing but a chaotic scene
Situations sadly, ended in a fuss or fight
Face the reality of the matter
She often drowned in tears
Put up with a lot of your mess
For so many years