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Somedays, I’ll be dancing in my living room to The Cure,
and suddenly, my chest will collapse in on itself, a demolition of all the memories of  the year I shared with you.  I was the city putting out the notice, this old building with a weak foundation needed to come down.
And I cry.
And suddenly , I fee stupid, I’m crying alone with a glass of wine while Just Like Heaven is playing. It wasn’t even our song.
It’s time to rebuild.
The city is under development,
Alexa, replay Just Like Heaven by The Cure.
I have looked for your eyes in everyone I have slept with
since you left. I have looked for your smile in the barista who makes my coffee every morning and have looked for your voice with every switch of the radio. I tried to make you the villain in our story. The truth of it was I thought I was happy with you, I thought the pain of you walking out the door would **** me. That last good bye replayed in my mind like the movies playing on my tv as background noise. I wonder where I went wrong. What were my mistakes? Why wasn’t I enough?  I tried to make myself someone you liked, I spent so much time trying to make you happy, I forgot who I was.
After the fog cleared, I was able to spend time with myself.
I stopped looking for you in every person I met. For the first time, I was able to remember what it was like to breathe and move forward. In the end, I was finally happy with me.
I would say I miss you,
But that would be a lie right,
same as the lies of “you’re beautiful”
and “I love you” coming out of the lips of men I poured everything into but those were my mistake to mull over. My past for me to dissect. And the hurtful things I told myself, I could take, I was never as cruel to disguise judgement for caring. There was only so much hurt one person could carry,
only so many times I could be cut open by one person and stitched back up to hear them say they fixed me. How many times you’d say you’d fixed me, like I was broken? Like my flaws were factory defects but it was fine, you’d accept me cause you knew you could fix me?
The way you’d make it sound like were a Coldplay song. Like the lyrics and you holding my hand could put back together the pieces of a fragile girl torn apart by too many people. You, my savior, put me in cage, reminded me I could not be trusted to make my own choices, because this naive girl had fallen for too many sweet promises and had bad judgment when making my mistakes and you had to come in and fix me. Like I was a broken car and you a mechanic. Like you came in to sweep me off my feet with duct tape and hot glue. My hero. Came on his white horse to fix me and I’d fall at your feet  because after all, you’d put in all the work, right? You put effort into fixing something no one would love anyways. Something that wasn’t yours to fix in the first place and I’m supposed to be grateful? That you remind me who was there to pick up the pieces of every broken heart? That you remind me I’m not good enough, not smart enough to see when someone is lying to me, to see when I’m being played, but they my  mistakes to make. After all, it was me, crying, alone, throwing up in a McDonald’s bathroom, surviving, putting myself back together and you sweeping in to take all the credit for my work and I’m supposed to apologize for not loving you back the way you put effort into fixing me?
  Aug 2019 Hannia Santisteban
every night, there's this concept:
we're making scenarios in our head—
I, wishing I was dead
you, chasing someone you could never forget
and we'd tell them—they should've killed us instead
The problem is I’m drunk on Halloween weekend
the problem is every time I drink I wanna tell you I love you
the problem is I start to say it to all the wrong people.
I had two tequila sunrises and two blue long islands.
Blue long island tastes like your kisses that night a year ago and tequila tastes like regret when I see what I texted you
tomorrow morning. And it all boils down to the fact,
when I slept with the other guy, I finally understood why you
hurt me so much. It felt so good knowing the power was in my hand .Holding his heart in my fist, knowing he made love to me but I ****** him, just like you ****** me. But I still love you. In the drunken haze of my emotions, I still love you. And when you ask me, while I'm sober, if I still have feelings for you, I’ll ask,
“Does hate count as a feeling?”
  Sep 2018 Hannia Santisteban
Don't tell me I'm pretty
Tell me that I'm passionate
That I have drive
Tell me that I make you laugh
That I know how to make your day better
Don't tell me I seem nice
Tell me that I'm kind and compassionate
Tell me that I'm not afraid to dream and to dream big
Don't tell me I'm perfect
Tell me the you love me despite my flaws
That you want to spend the rest of your life with me
Don't tell me I'm beautiful
Tell me that you'll be faithful and forever true

You ask me to write about you
and I say I can’t.
I say I can’t write when I’m happy and
you haven’t broken my heart yet.
I lied.
The truth is, I haven’t learned how to make poetry
out of my flaws yet.


I’m afraid your love might suffocate me.
I still love someone I can never have and
now you love someone you can never have.


I know I have so much to work on.
I am a broken person who has been together
too many times. The water is leaking and the flowers are wilting.
You deserve someone who will love you as much as you love them.


My mother told me to be with someone who loves me
more than I love them.
I can not do that.
I want can’t-live-with-out-you love. Even if it tears through me
with the strength of a category 5 hurricane.  Even if I can’t use my lungs for the months after.

I’m going to break his heart.
Because I can’t grow to love him.
I know everyday I am trash
but it feels good to be loved like this.
I am fragile and so is this love.


I think it’s safer for both of us to leave the vase alone.
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