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Ian Johan-Gomez Aug 2019
there is
       something
             so comforting
about the
                         smokey
          smell of
                                           cigarettes
                                                       saturating the soul
first thing in the morning
                                              especially when
it’s on his
                  breath
                               and he’s
                                                kissing your nightmares away
Ian Johan-Gomez Mar 2016
I feel a grim satisfaction as mud splatters on my white shoes.
What an appropriate metaphor for early adulthood.

My problems are not my own.
The sociological imagination has never
seemed so applicable.
We’ve all been dosed up
On dashes of passion,
splashes of intelligence
and just enough anxiety and depression
to approach existential nihilism and
We’re fed these lies of individuality but
We Know
we are only products of our youth and culture,
ones of many in the long production line
We claim
We are Art,
but We Feel
we’re just generated from streams of code,
prepared to fight to the death for
some algorithm that doesn’t even matter
And so I protest
I can’t just be a number
I am flesh and blood,
my knees are buckling under the
weight of this artificial perfection.
I’m not just a number,
My eyes are staring at the
the marks that
determine my worth, knowing
success is my only option
i am not just a number
My sanity is sinking and
drowning and
constantly fighting to stay afloat
But I am not just a number. -
My mind tells me I’m not making it--
How are these other people making it?
I’m determining my worth
on sets of standards that are as worthy as dust
And it is with these standards i am told
I am just a number.

I feel like
I can no longer speak
because I’ve been
shouting
at the top of my lungs
I AM NOT JUST A NUMBER

But my voice
is too quiet
And the world
is too loud.

I’m so tired of trying to be heard.
Yet these words still sound better
when I scream them,
not just scrawl them down
on scraps of paper.


for someone so happy
I'm so very angry.
for someone so happy
I'm so very sad.
Ian Johan-Gomez Feb 2016
This is not a love story.
When our eyes met
And we felt that spark,
That connection,
We smiled.
I did not go over and talk to you
And you did not giggle
At my poor attempts to be suave.
You did not twirl your hair
Or look down at the ground
As I complimented your eyes.
We did not strike up a conversation
As we stood in line at the supermarket.
You didn’t tell me the chicken and potatoes were a special treat for your little sister,
And I didn’t admit that my top ramen was the only thing I could cook.
I didn’t offer to carry your bag,
And you didn’t give your number in return.
I didn’t call you after the appropriate number of days.
We didn’t go out for coffee
And I didn’t get to hear your life story.
I didn’t get to smile at your blush
As you admitted you had a thing for Harrison Ford.
I didn’t get a chance to smile and cheekily say that I did too.
We didn’t have that first kiss,
So clumsy and so awkward,
Yet perfect.
We didn’t go out on a second date,
Or a third
Or tenth,
Or a hundredth.
We didn’t go back to that coffee shop
And I did not get down on one knee
And get to hear you say yes.
We didn’t bicker about wedding details
I didn’t get to tell you that I hated red velvet
And that it was impossible to get Ed Sheeran to play at our wedding.
I didn’t feel my heart flutter as I waited at the alter
And I didn’t get that high of seeing you in that white dress
Smiling your shy smile.
You didn’t walk down the aisle.
There were no vows
No declarations of love.
We didn’t get to say I do.
There was no wedding kiss
No wedding dance
No honeymoon.
We didn’t buy a house.
We didn’t name our first child Harrison.
Times never got hard,
And things never seemed close to breaking.
We never fought.
We never reconciled.
Our children never went to college,
And we never got grandkids of our own.
We didn’t celebrate our 10th anniversary
Or our 20th.
Our 60th.
I didn’t get to hold your hand
As the doctor diagnosed Alzheimer’s.
I didn’t take you to your plethora of doctor visits.
You didn’t forget my name.
You didn’t forget Harrison’s name.
I never held your hand as you degraded right before me.
I didn’t shed a tear as I heard your last breath
And I didn’t kiss your forehead one last time before they took away.
We didn’t have a wonderful life together.
We didn’t have a life together.
All because when I met your eyes at the grocery store
In line with our chicken, potatoes, and top ramen,
I didn’t take a chance.
You went on your way and I went on mine.
This is not a love story.
Ian Johan-Gomez Feb 2016
I lay on my back
Close my eyes
Let myself escape

I feel the sharp edges of the grass
poking my neck
I know I'll have little cuts,
but it'll be worth it.

The sunlight caresses my face
It's warm on my eyelids
and I smile at its touch.

Above me,
the wind whistles through the trees
Can you hear it?
Whoosh, whoosh
Like waves crashing on the beach.

I feel myself start to float
As I leave my body
and find myself
The part of me that I had lost so long ago.

I’m greeted like an old friend
and I start to reminisce about the past
and all the joy I felt about the little things.

Mud:
The squelching noise between my fingers;
how it was so cold
and slightly gritty and
gave me such satisfaction.

Leather:
The smell and
how it reminds me of my days with my dad,
when he saddled up his old horse
and we'd go on an adventure.

Watermelon:
Homegrown
On a hot summer day
The sweetness
As I bite into a slice.
Letting the sticky juices coat my cheeks and
admire the contrast between the fresh pink and cool green.

Sunshine
The warmth as it shines through my window
On an early morning
The sound of the meadow lark ringing in my ears
is my alarm.

I smile at these memories.
I smile at my happy self.

I let myself settle back into myself
and gasp as the weight of the world
pins me back to reality

But I let myself stay a moment more.
Soaking in the sunshine.
Listening to the wind.
Bearing the cuts and stains from the grass
like scars from a battle barely won.
Ian Johan-Gomez Mar 2014
It began with a kiss
A simple meeting of our lips
And I knew something was about to change.

As I looked into your eyes
You gave me butterflies
And trapped my heart in your beautiful cage.

With our passion and connection
Our love and affection
We were burning brighter than any flame.

It was the time of our lives
But for its eventual demise
Neither of us was to blame.

For good things always end
And heartbreaks eventually mend
Yet still my heart remains your slave.

For I remember at the start
When you stole my precious heart
I knew I would never be the same.
Ian Johan-Gomez Mar 2014
This is for the one across the world
The one who has encountered
so many people
Yet still misses me.

This is for the one who lives a day ahead
The one who has experienced
that many more moments than I
Yet still cherishes the time we spend together.

This is for the one who has exploring the wonders of the world
The one who knows
more about them than I ever will
Yet who still cannot grasp how important he means to me.

This is for the one who is my rock
My shoulder to cry on
My smile to share with
This is for the one who is my other half
The one who will always be my best friend.

This, my dear, is for you.
Ian Johan-Gomez Oct 2013
I love the shining sun and warm air
Lying on the grass with you staring at the sky
The smooth sweet breeze blowing through our hair
Imagining us with the clouds up high.
Summer makes me happy and full of soul
It is in summer and with you I feel truly free
I no longer care when I lose control
And laugh and smile uncontrollably.
How I miss those simple summer days
And the flutter of my heart under your warm gaze
But that warmth is gone and the air is now cold
Much like your sudden indifference, it chills me to the bone
I am meek and sad now not brave and bold
As I am forced to face these winter nights alone.
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