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Feb 2019 · 334
university downfall
Hailyn Suarez Feb 2019
they hang as banner flags in a sinning room

peace

purification

compassion

prosperity

knowledge

all but reminders,

all but suggestions.



surely, purification is out of the question,

sitting unquestionably in a college dorm.



compassion is seldom met,  

as tests land, obtrusively on the same Friday.

a Friday.  



prosperity in which we are striving to be,

losing sleep,  

losing time.

all for it.



knowledge tries to be a friend,

tries to take time to nourish the alcohol flooded brain  



the flags continue to flutter, eyeing all those who pass,

reaching out sewn up fingers and cloth covered mouths.

maybe they should be listened to, devoted to, prayed to,



or perhaps, they should be ripped down
april 5, 2017 written
Feb 2019 · 475
Because of you...
Hailyn Suarez Feb 2019
Because I loved you

Because you filtered away my doubts

Because you created a picture, a frame, and a decoration

Because you promised



Because whenever I see your name I want to scream

Because when I see your name I think of you

Because when I think of you, I think of it, that day

Because you promised



Because when I was down, you picked me up

Because your soul was in sync with mine

Because you brought out the best in me

Because you promised Because I loved you

Because you filtered away my doubts

Because you created a picture, a frame, and a decoration

Because you promised



Because whenever I see your name I want to scream

Because when I see your name I think of you

Because when I think of you, I think of it, that day

Because you promised



Because when I was down, you picked me up

Because your soul was in sync with mine

Because you brought out the best in me

Because you promised

Because when you said “forever” I tried not to believe it

Because when you said it, you were so confident

Because you told me I was your one and only

Because you promised



Because when you shattered my heart, I cried
Because I cried for days and days, my eyes grew tired
Because my eyes grew tired so did my mind
Because you promised

Because when someone promises, I expect them to let me down, and  
Because I was hoping you’d be different, I fell
Because when I fall, I fall hard
Because you promised

Because as I sunk deeper into your arms, I saw my future
Because I saw us at the altar, I saw us in the delivery room
Because I felt sure that you would be my always
Because you promised

Because 3 month and 9 days ago you let me go

Because when I begged for you to stay, you said “I don’t know what to say.”

Because you cried and I cried, I believed it wasn’t over

Because you promised



Because when you took our pictures down I felt empty  

Because I hadn’t taken mine down, mine are still up

Because you happened

Because you promised



Because I let myself fall for you

Because I let you take my heart into your two greedy hands

Because when you looked into my eyes, I believed

Because you promised



Because when you said I love you, I didn’t know it was  

Because you were saying goodbye

Because you were with her now

Because you promised



Because she was closer in proximity

Because 131 miles was too far for you

Because when you wanted ***, I wasn’t there

Because you promised



Because when I said forever, I meant it

Because you were my all

Because I was the fool who let you in

Because you promised



Because I dressed how you wanted

Because I did what you wanted

Because I was the “perfect girlfriend”

Because you promised



Because you were mine

Because I was yours

Because I thought we would be that 2%

Because you promised



Because you left me broken

Because you crushed my heart

Because I wished you well

Because I promised
i wrote this about my ex boyfriend and found it in a folder. Dated September 7, 2017.
Oct 2017 · 345
It happened 3 times
Hailyn Suarez Oct 2017
1.     Imagine you’re in an oil painting, hung up by just threads of string

This painting is of a beach, off the coast, sea breeze smells of wet sand

Everything’s magical here, the sky burns brighter and his smile seems more relaxed

Here is where I first met his demon

1.     They say “it’s **** when he’s rough.”

So, it’s **** when his fist seems like it’s about to break my nose like glass

Or is it hot when the grip on my arm will be a small

Unnoticeable bruise tomorrow

His lips drip toxins like absolute ***** that I’m forced to drink and

His eyes no longer shine like the oil painted sky,

They look like two pits of blue flames burning down a church.

1.     When I was backed into a corner, I pretended the walls were cylindrical

And the corners were curves

Matching the body, he presumed I didn’t want and

“make sure to write your food down.”

1.     It was the first time I feared my prince,

Of the one who said “your hand is only fit to hold mine” and

Morphed my brain into a puzzle piece for his game.

2.  A time when new beginnings occur

The sky lights up like a child in front of birthday candles and

A midnight kiss starts the year off right.

Another brawl, more angry words,

I told him to get away but his ears must have been deaf since all

He heard was “come here”

2.   His nails scratched marks into my skin and

my stomach turned in anguish against his chest

when your angel sheds its wings and

the horns appear, don’t pretend they aren’t there.

2.    Fear.

My tears streaked down on my evening look but

His eyes singed them up,

Licking each one like sun flares on Mars

And I found myself curled up in a ball of doubt

2. “it’s over. I’m done. I won’t deal with this anymore”

but I made him this way, I turned his baby blues into

terrible twos that grew into his teens.

I made his smile turn to an upside-down rainbow and his arms

into steel gates.

3. Winter wonderlands, where children play make-believe games and

throw harmless snowball blows.

He, wrestled my arms and bruised my heart,

Snatched it from my chest and gnawed it with barred teeth.

I think, demons come in many shapes and his was icing on a

Birthday cake.

His was the ring on my left hand that curled around my finger like

Barbed wire and held snug like a chain linked dog.

3.  think of a mother’s whisper, a dad’s sweet song, imagine the sounds of laughter

now ignite it gasoline and you’ll get his voice.

Cutting deeper and deeper into my torn up, ****** up mind.

3.  It’s hard to hide in a car with seats greased by leather

Find somewhere to avert your eyes while his

Hands clutch your chin but,

Not in the way that’s “endearing”

No, the way that makes you turn away if seen in public, if seen here,

If seen anywhere.

3. “This won’t happen again”

“I’m here till the end”

“I love you baby”

“Please just come here”

“I would never hurt you”


3 times it happened, 3 times I stayed.
Written as a free-write for my poetry class. My professor ended up in tears.
Sep 2017 · 528
Radioactive Hands
Hailyn Suarez Sep 2017
Can’t I just hold your hand
Try to feel your soul inside mine
Relax, exhale, take my final inhale

Drift off to sleep in my arms,
Blanketed in certainty and unattainable infatuation
Make me whole

Fill my fragmented cracks with the cement of your devotion
Tile the rooms of my brain with glass
To see within the deserted halls
see the shadows creeping out of obscurity
see the graffitied window panes,
Covered with initials of lost people

Make me feel alive
Enchant me with your laugh
Douse me with your tongue licks,
Feeling like stinging hornets or a
Tattoo needle crawling across my flesh
Battling the many scars, bruises, freckles, marks
Trace my veins with fingertips of silk

Dance under this canopy of frostbitten ceiling fans
Relinquish power to the earths seductive pulse
Be with me

Conform your broken body with mine and
Feel my sweet tears drip into your abyss
Soak them up like dried up dandelions
Shed them too

When you feel, I feel
Say jump and I’m
not scared of the height
Air is openness and the ground is your arms
Gravitate towards me, my
radioactive body decays
Feel the radiation, the heart wrenching terrors of
unrequited loves that have left me in
shackles designed for thieves

You have stolen my heart
****** it out of its cold castle,
Crystalized by broken promises

Dream me a new day
Enfold me in destinations beyond our reach
And make sure to catapult my shattered limbs and
Flailing body at the sun,
For it shines brighter than me

Need the comfort of your giggle
Tickling me from the inside, invading my digestive system,
Planting seeds of butterflies

Cope with my sadness
I’ll cope with yours
Please
Can’t I just hold your hand.
Written to be a spoken word poem; Marcy.
Sep 2017 · 277
Just Lines
Hailyn Suarez Sep 2017
Pencil tips are like
Ladies hips
Gently swaying to the music
Gliding on frosted marble,
Drinking in the purity of
Rough parchment

Pencil tips are for when
ideas form words and
words form complexity
Scratching into notebooks,
Mountain peaks,
Translating concepts into
Mount Rushmore

Pens are too forceful
Permanent
Pencils can be erased
Just like every memory stored
Within a coffee can
In a homemade time capsule

The priest said God is pure
But when he made us,
He used pencil tips,
paper thin lines
Tracing and retracing
Imperfectness is perfect he said

Japanese paintings
Created with brush strokes
Evok-ing pictures of marvelous queens,
Cowardly jesters,
Mighty kings,
Elegant ballerinas, and
Alluring princes

Pencil tips created these fantasies
Dreams
Grandiose mirages fold and unfold
On top of tissue paper bibles,
Delicate taut skin

How do words create overbearing tears,
phantom heartbreak,
Jealous ex-girlfriends,
Infidelity infested ignorant *******,
breathtaking wedding bells?

Pencil tips
Written in University at Buffalo, while visiting my boyfriend, after loosing my first draft and having to start all over again.
Sep 2017 · 356
Blind
Hailyn Suarez Sep 2017
Seeing through eyes blanketed by a
Fuzzy blanket, only intended for winter recess
Winter recess where the snowflakes drift in and
Out of ocular view, demanding to be looked at.
Japanese paintings folding, unfolding, transforming into
Little blurry bubbles of dark greens and
Blackened blues.
Glorious sunsets, smearing the sky with red hands look
Flattened.
They’re dry and hands cannot rub enough waterfalls and
Raindrops into them,
Leaving spider webs, fresh with rouge.
Written in common room of Marcy.
Sep 2017 · 500
Date Night
Hailyn Suarez Sep 2017
We danced together but alone,
Slow heartbeats mingled in the foreground,
Hands lightly pressed atop our fabric encased skin,
Eyes hissing with dimmed lust.

We danced together but alone,
Encased in a bubble of two,
Forgetting the steps to the dance,
Forgetting the words to the song.

We danced together but alone,
Smiling awkwardly,
Never making eye contact,
Fear crawling into each throat.

We danced together but alone,
Hiding bruises and scars,
Envisioning a new life outside the bubble,
Squeezing the only hand comfortable.

We danced together but alone,
Remembering days in the light,
Feelings of tripping on ecstasy,
This fairytale fantasy.

We danced together but alone,
Incredibly out of love,
Broken but whole,
Pretending to like the new song.

We danced together but alone,
Uncovering the veil around the brain,
******* the marks under each cuff,
Shedding tears unseen.
written in Mountain View, Marcy. (If anyone has any suggestions, all are welcome)
Sep 2017 · 330
While I Adjust My Glasses
Hailyn Suarez Sep 2017
In the kingdom of Saturday an angel holds nothing,
encompassed by picture frames.

A human trafficker bites a popped Tylenol,
Eviscerates the nightmares that circle his crown.

An optimist puts their hands up,
Envisions a tableau soothed with moisturizer.

A chieftain offers a beer to an orphaned
Child, lush with vermillion blotches.

A physician shrinks down in front of,
A simmered-out wife, head towards the door.

A gypsy considers being alone,
xenophobia resiliently grips her throat.

A mystified boy points to a girl,
Whispers inaudibly “I miss making her laugh.”

A priest begins an unimaginable service,  
“My prayer is simple, my dear one,

Live for tomorrow, not yesterday.
Open your hands.
written for CW350A, this writing assignment was impossible and this is what formed
Sep 2017 · 293
Bars Now-a-Days
Hailyn Suarez Sep 2017
It’s a bar like this:
Smashed in Bud lite cans, Hennessey bottles half emptied.
Cable TV, static at high volume,
Re-runs of Seinfeld and
Occasionally the game.

Men in sweats, men in tuxes, men in rags,
Men in company jackets.
Bonded and connected by their mutual friend Jack
And their ex-lover Brandy.

It’s a bar like this:
Bartenders sniffing coke, pouring
3 parts orange juice, 1 part *****, 2 parts water.
Posters hanging with ******* girls and
Kate Upton.

Smells of defeat and destruction emanate to the street,
The sign swings crooked, uncared for, untouched.
Broken in windows, lined with blackened wood panels
Creatively decorated with graffiti

Lightbulbs act like lightening bugs,
Never illuminating on command.
Plumbing rattles, toilets overflow,
One woman stands alone.

It’s a bar like this:
Two men swear and hiss,
Breaking a table in two.
Chairs part like the red sea,
Bets are placed.

Occasionally, some stray wanders in,
Testing out the waters,
Coughing up nicotine and tar,
holding his door frame crutch.

Scratchy hand towels and oily soup,
Sink bowls re-rusted.
McDonald’s bags liter the stained tiles,
Enjoying rat company.

It’s a bar like this:
Over enthusiastic boss hiring
Sixteen year olds,
Blondes only,
No criminal record.
Eviction notices used as placemats and
Electric bill coasters.
Been open since 1975 but
Even then
it was a bar like this.
written for CW350A; prompt was "in a bar like this..."
Hailyn Suarez Jun 2017
walking out of the darkness is hard,
you see it, waiting around corners,
splashing around in the pool.

darkness watches from a distance,
close enough for your scalp to prickle,
enough for you to be scared.

it envelops you in bed,
drowns you with blinks,
darkness scares you.

but then, you see it.
you see the light you've been waiting for.
you see the brilliance, the beauty.

the soft touch invites,
stronger than any dark embrace,
and you walk right into the sunshine.
written after an ice-cream date
May 2017 · 786
the anatomy of heartbreak
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
your cephalic is now distal from my axial
posterior when you used to be anterior
missing our deep talks, instead of superficial ones

your orbital region all but glances at my mammaries
tilting your mental up and away from me
ignoring my lateral buccal

I miss our manus's clenched together at the median
your pollex rubbing my digital
palmer's together

my thoracic lunges at you
trying to grip onto you using all my pericardium
my umbilical region hurts
written at CGCC
May 2017 · 2.0k
my little flower stem
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
she's a jumping bean,
bouncing off walls,
breaking in her velvet muscles.

a princess crown encompasses her cranium,
eyelashes like butterfly wings,
fluttering in a breeze.

wearing tic-tacs for teeth,
a smile designed by blind men's hands,
construction of a masterpiece.

eyes aglow with eagerness,
bleeding aquamarine,
flooding my pupils with luminosity.

giggles like dandelion seedtips,
a supplementary appendage,
attached to my forearm.

she blankets me in gentle bear hugs,
curling around like pink yarn,
frayed at the edges.
written at the dining room table
May 2017 · 983
Finals Blues
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
I've forgotten the last time I had to memorize
oh wait, it was today.
I memorized so I didn't have to plagiarize
and I plagiarized because I had no idea what to say.

instead of studying, I was out at play
breaking ankles instead of pencil tips.
made some gnarly 3 pointers, I might say,
all I could think about were my papercut lips.

the keyboard fights me with whips
I'm trying, I am really trying,
but I'm collapsing, like sunken battleships.
Well, at least I'm not dying.
written before finals crushed my pencils
May 2017 · 462
It's her fault
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
He clenches her throat, 
Squeezing her jugular with abrasive, demanding hands,​
Hands that used to smell of flower stems and home.​
Those roses had long ago died,​
Seeped into the kitchen tiles. ​

Feminine hands search frantically, helplessly,​  
She mumbles into his beat red face,
Begging God for help.
He dominates her, crushes her, blankets her in darkness.​
Vision blurs, blood pulses furiously to her head. ​

She tries to scream out the window,​
The door,​
The unseen skylight,
Into the crowded streets.​

Everything looks normal from the outside,​
Shutters drawn just so, the chimney smoking seductively in whispers.​
Passenger's see the house as a sanctuary, a safe haven.​
Inside, the walls are beat,​ bloodied, and bruised,
​Displaying black and blue marks, ​
Harmonizing with her beautiful brown skin. ​

"I love you too much," he groans pushing deeper into her flesh,​
Forcing his bleached fingers into her tormented soul. ​
A soul that had been whole once,​
Before he came, before she let him take hold,​
Before he became God.​

She gasps as fluttering images invade her mind,​
Her daughters' precious smiles, brown curls,​
Cloaking her dark mind in light,​
Filtering through the clouds.​

Liquor breaks the mirage,​
Forcing her back into the present.​
He's pressing his swollen lips to her forehead,​
Soaking in her sober, filling his nostrils with her scent.​

He still looks beautiful.​
He looks like the man she married at 17.
He looks God-like. ​
He is God. ​

Heartbeat slows, pulse un-rhythmically beats,​
Blackness devours her eyes, shutting out the perfectly formed home.​
All that's left is the soft giggles of her daughters'​
Echoing through her empty body.​

But, at least she sees angels.
This would be a spoken poem
May 2017 · 1.3k
this poem's versatile
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
checkered tiles
speckled smiles
obscene trash piles
maps dissected into miles
broken in church aisles
misogynistic facebook profiles
banned to exile
written in library north
May 2017 · 3.2k
You're so like, Ethnic
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
"You're Mexican?! You don't look Mexican?"
             "What's Mexican supposed to look like?"
"Oh, you know... Sombrero, a curly twirly mustache, maybe like holding a taco!"
            "I am eating a taco."

"No, like a real taco.
One that is like made in Mexico,
with like Mexican beans,
and Mexican ladies.
You know what I mean."
           "No, I don't."

"What's it like? Did you have a quinceanera thingy? Do you speak Spanish?"
           "No and no."
"What?! Then you like aren't a real Mexican. All Mexicans can habla Espanol."

            "Oh, you know what. I forgot. I know what it is."
"What?"
             "I'm not just Mexican, I'm German too."
"That makes like total sense. No wonder you can't speak Spanish. But wait, like were your family Nazis?"
May 2017 · 429
Too Pointless to be Vain
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
How hard is it,
To pick them out,
Together.

I mean they specifically come in pairs,
Two, dos, zwei, deux,
Trapped together by plastic handcuffs.

Pairs,
Like pairs of binocular eyes,
Like a pair of hearing aids,
Like barbeque chicken wings,
Like that obnoxious aunt and uncle.

Are you a slob?
Is your closet a mess?
You’re definitely a person who leaves hair in the drain.

Why do they cease to match,
Is it to purposely annoy me,
While I’m waiting for this **** bus,
which was an hour late,
two hours ago.

One is green like it was picked from a nose,
One is orange,
Bright
Orange.
You had to pick the most clashing colors, right?

And I can see them,
Right there, poking out of your
Adidas flats.

They taunt me,
Regard my shoes with noses turned up,

Play tennis with my emotions,
And twist my brain like a contortionist.

Were you in a rush this morning,
That you totally forgot to look for a pair,
An ACTUAL pair?!
There were absolutely none?!

Is it wrong that I’m judging you right now,
Or that I definitely would not want to have a conversation,
Let alone sit next to you.

Socks are supposed to match,
That’s how they’re made,
Knitted, sewn, and colored soulmates,
S-o came along and bonded with c-k-s,
See, it’s chemistry.
This would be a spoken poem
May 2017 · 710
I'll Be There Next Time
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
How come you left my mom?
Was she too sweet,
like the sugar she saturated your coffee in,
Or was she too kind,
letting you buy every
little boy play station game?
She warmed you like the sun,
penetrating your skin,
tanning your insides.
Was she too bright, beautiful,
mesmerizing?
How come when I see you, I still smile?
As my family curses your name, I smile.
When they tell me “He’s not a good father” , I defend.
their nostrils flare, but I
smile.

How come I forgave you so **** easy?
Maybe, so I can forgive myself,
for not being daddy’s little girl.
Not being able to gently step on your feet,
dance around the house.
For not being my sister, who has a father,
Enveloping her in wave after wave
of calm ocean love.

How come you haunt my dreams?
Voice calm, forgiving,
whispering: “I love you.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“I miss you.”
soft whispers of broken promises echo

How come you stayed for him?
Was it because you knew
you could play baseball with him?
Or was it because when he turned 15,
you could teach him
how to pick up girls like dandelions?

How come boys break promises?
Not just boys, men.
Men like you,
Who tell 10-year old’s that
their present is on the way:
“It’s in transit.”
“It’s in the mail.”
“I just shipped it.”
“It should be there.”
“Happy Birthday Honey.”

How come I look for guys like you?
They say I’m “asking for it.”
Wanting to ****** up every simple, soft
smiling, cold
hearted, Uncomitting,
immature boy.
Maybe they’ll keep me
company
‘til you return.
You were my first definition
of a prince,
How charming.

How come I don’t trust anyone,
even that nice boy swaying silently to the song
that I adore, or that one who helps me
through dreadful chemistry lectures?

How come you text “I love you”?
When I’m alone, crying
over the latest breakup,
Submerging myself in heart wrenching
love songs,
Drowning in the comforting
lyrics. The soft ping of a text,
imitating conversation.
Your name
A heart emoji
I love you.

Your texts have become another promise.
I have begun to count down the days
until those words are murmurs
And three words become
zero.

How come, I still say “I love you too”?
How come you walked away before I could even walk?
How come my last name still follows me around like a brand?
How come you moved so ******* far away?
How come I believed you year after year,
Winter
Spring
Summer
Fall
Winter
Spring
Summer
Fall
Winter
Spring
Summer

Where are my presents,
Wrapped quickly in promises,
stamped “return to sender”
This would be a spoken poem
May 2017 · 654
he holds a gun
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
“namaste” she says- as he holds a gun
her words a whisper, to cold blue eyes
but his hand shakes- she has almost won.

the sand is dry and the sky is only sun
it’s quiet – the wind begins its sighs
“namaste” she says – as he holds a gun.

the woman is hidden in black, like nun
the bodies pile ‘round her – rotting – covered in flies
but his hand shakes – she has almost won.

her beautiful onyx hair, forced into a bun
his composure falters, his eyes turn soft, ruining his disguise
“namaste” she says- as he holds a gun.

he curses the sky and sinks to the ground hoping to be numb
he’s become a monster- a killer- one who terrifies
but his hand shakes – she has almost won.

she stands up, gets ready to run
but then puts out her hand- to somehow
sympathize

“namaste” she says- as he holds a gun
but his hand shakes- she has almost won.

— The End —