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 Aug 2019 Hannia Santisteban
zee
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
she was the maker, he was her muse
a creative girl with everything to lose

she colored her canvas with her bleeding heart
she loved him and watched her world fall apart

she got her heart broken but kept a blank face
knowing that there are some mistakes you can't erase

she gave up her art, a lover betrayed
her pure white mind turned a darker shade.
And then there were seven.
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
 Apr 2018 Hannia Santisteban
Kim
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Almost.
Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.
1 second, 2 seconds
3 seconds, 4
i can't breathe... I'm
clutching my chest trying to
stay off the floor
5 ticks, 6 ticks
7 ticks, 8
how could he...why couldn't
he just learn to appreciate..
what he had.
what he had.
me. me.
i can't breathe.
BUSY. stay busy.
count again. again.
1 click, 2 clicks
3 clicks, 4
my heart is beating
my chest is sore
count. count.
please keep counting.
stay busy.
5 Mississippi, 6 Mississippi
7 Mississippi, 8
my knees are weakened
and my vision's filled with hate
9 taps, 10 taps
11 taps and 12
12...12.... what comes after 12?
13. right. 13.
13....14....15...16...
do you think he'll even miss me?
To impeach or not to impeach: that is the question
To bar myself against his merciless beliefs
Or to deal with a worse evil by the name of Pence
His speeches of deportation and his turning of the laws
With his tiny hands and orange face is deplorable, despicable!
The destruction by the racist himself to LGBT+’s civil rights
Has wrought havoc for the transgendered, has instilled fear into us
To impeach or to keep
Pence, a sidekick, a partner in crime to the man in question, a worse evil
Hatred of us, boiling beneath his republican skin
Conversion therapy becoming an option, scarring and scaring the youths
Homophobia on the rise after the biggest triumph for us
Laws passed in June of 2015 no longer holding meaning
This man spreading his opinions to the new generations
To keep Mr. Trump would save us from a meaner man
But what would save us from the man who helped make America racist again?
There’s misogyny, bigotry, and racism filling the office
Violence, arrogance and white supremacy filling our country
Supported by Russia, the KKK, and racist republicans
Trump has taken this land into violence, fear, and hatred of one another
He has made public shaming against those with disabilities appropriate
And his voters have accepted this America as a great one
People are beginning to revert back to their prior nativism views
But to us Pence is a worse evil
Threats, pain, and fear still running deep within our communities
Shootings, violence, and property damage are just to name a few
Running rampant in our communities, egged on by this Vice President
Though Lord Voldemort may be terrible
Behind him is a line of Red Racist Bigots to replace him
Due to this, the Evil Man will have to be kept
And impeaching cannot take place
I wrote this last year when we had to make a poem matching Hamlet's soliloquy about an issue in the world today. These are my own personal opinions and I don't wish to demean anyone else's. Thank you for reading.
i have forgotten how to write poetry     because i forgot

poetry isn't    always just        
                                                      sad
i forgot
                      that
i can                                      
write
about              happiness


but how               can                i
                                                                     when there is none?


when everything's just


numb?
---
i.

i used to only write sad poems.

ii.

you see,
i am a cynic,
a cemetery,
a holocaust,
a chaotic, distant, lost girl
buried in her own
self-destruction.

but with you
i am different.

i want to wake up,
keep my promises,
make up for lost time,
spill blood and ink,
try again,
live

for you.

iii.

you walk me home
and the skies blush
pink cloud summers
mid-December.

we part and i marvel
at the sepia tint
of backyard roses
blurring my lenses.

you came in
like the missing palette color
i never knew
i needed
my skies painted with.

iv.

now, you are all the love poems
i didn't know i could write.

and every metaphor i create
is just a lengthier version of
'i love you'

i really do.
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