Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I think the reason
Broken people
Are always drawn
To other
Broken people
Is that they
See each other's missing pieces
And they're so aware of their own
Missing pieces.
And they think
"Maybe your pieces can go where mine did,
And mine can go where yours did,
And together
We can be almost whole."

But broken people
Aren't very good at being whole
When they've been broken for so long.
They don't know how to be anything
But broken.

So I end up pushing you away.
I push you far, far away from me.
Because even though I need you around,
And I desperately want you with me,
I don't know how to be whole
anymore.
And that's what you do.
You make me whole.

And I push you and push you and push you
But you don't leave.
Even though you have absolutely
Every reason to leave.
Even though no one would question it.
Everyone would understand it.
Most people would be more than supportive of it.

But instead, you stay.

And I don't know if I make you whole,
But I know that sometimes you push me away too.
Not as far.
You never push me away as far as I push you,

But I am always ready to leave.
Because I've already done the sticking-around-when-no-one-wants-me thing.
And I've learned that there's no chasing people.
If they want to leave,
They will leave,
And you cannot ever stop them.

And everyone leaves, sooner or later.

You can't make a person want you
And you can't make a person choose you.

And someone can want you every second of every day,
But if they don't choose you,
It doesn't matter.

That's what I've learned.

So when you push me away from you,
My instinct is to leave.
I've never really had an actual home
Or an actual family,
So leaving isn't actually hard for me.
As much as I want to stay right here,
In your arms forever,
Leaving is easy.
It's natural for me.
I never knew how to stay.
I've always been a run-away kind of person.
Besides, it never takes anyone long to move on from me.
I leave,
They move on,
Their lives are better.

The hard part isn't leaving, for me.
It's forgetting.
Because I don't forget,
I can't move on.

Everyone I've left,
Everyone that has left me,
I remember.
I remember the hurt.
I remember them.

I'm not afraid to leave
When you push me away
Because I know you'll move on quickly
And I know you'll be better off
When I'm gone.

But when I push you away
I'm always so scared you'll go.
Because I don't want to move on,
And I don't want you to think I'll just forget you.
Because I won't.
Because I can't.

And I know it hurts that I'm so quick to leave,
And I know that knowing that it's only because I'm so used to going
Doesn't make it better.

I'm going to try to stay,
Because you stay.
Because I won't ever forget you,
And I don't want you to forget me.

I used to think
That once you love someone--
And I mean really really
Love them,
With every part of you--
I think once you love someone,
Well...
You never really stop.
 Jun 2017 Jaime Guzman
ely
beautiful
 Jun 2017 Jaime Guzman
ely
you are so beautiful
but not in the ways you would expect

i saw the sadness in your eyes
how they seemed to escape the prison you held them in
even for the most fleeting of moments
they shone in your eyes for a second
and they were gone the next
locked away where no one would ever see it
yet despite this,
you are humble and always kind
and for that, you are beautiful

i saw the weariness in your bones
aching muscles and tired limbs still forced to do the day’s work
as they tremble in exhaustion
and protest their misuse
yet despite this,
you are steadfast and you are strong
and for that, you are beautiful

i saw your hurt and your pain
moments where your breath is taken away
as you sit numb and in shock
the times you would falter in step
your head bowed deep, willing your tears not to fall
yet despite this,
you do not lash out, you are not angry
and for that, you are beautiful

you love despite not receiving that love in return
you are kind even when the world is anything but
you are beautiful because you are fighting
despite the gods’ insistence to keep you down

i hope you realize this before it is too late
your soul as pure as light radiates from within
and it makes you glow and beam and always look lovely
and my dear one—
if you could see yourself the way i see you
the way you always see others,

then will you realize you are worth it,
that you are beautiful,
and that you are so infinitely loved
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine
 Jan 2016 Jaime Guzman
Dust Bowl
They say when you go through trauma
It either kills you
Or you forget it.
They don't tell you what to do
when the options blend.
There's no hotline to call
when the memories you've buried
claw their way back up your throat
like the pills that didn't work.
I am a causality of a war I never fought in.

I cut my hair short so I can wash it in the sink,
For the days when my shower turns into a tardis I cannot control,
A time machine with only one date.
I have grown sick of not finding refuge in this time and place.
When I shave my head,
I think of how impossible it is to pull a buzzcut.

I write the date on every piece of paper,
But I don't really live here.
The present is just a hideout from the past,
The future a threat of going back.
I am on the run.
A fugitive of broken memories and stolen hope.

I lock each door in my house
five times
before telling my mom goodnight.
I check underneath my bed,
Move the clothes in my closet
until I'm sure I can see every part of the back wall,
and leave its door open.
I bend my eyes into every corner and hollow spot.
I will not go to sleep.
I will dream myself awake.
I wake up in my bathtub time machine,
Raise my face through the surface of the red water,
My long hair wrapping itself around my throat like promises from a time when I still felt alive.
I will probably scream,
And find myself back in my bed.
My family won't hear a thing.
I know this is a mess, but thats the only way this ever makes sense.
 Jul 2014 Jaime Guzman
Jack
~

Walk with me
on golden fields,
down paths built of love
and we will share
every breath of
this journey
with each other,
step by wondrous step
~
Take my hand
and we shall follow the sun
wherever it may lead,
along edges of time,
uncounted minutes,
shadows changing shape,
for this is ours
to keep forever
~
Sit with me
and we will write
poetic gardens
filled with fragrant,
beautiful blooms,
leaving petals of our words
scattered about
cobblestone walks
for all to see
~
Wander with me.
bringing smiles and laughter
through forests of
evergreen dreams,
underbrush desires,
finding the next vista
painted in the beauty
that awaits us
~
Stay with me
for there would be no need
for looking back,
we would have each other,
our words, a whole world of
new memories to make
endlessly
*as one
Inspired by a conversation today with my beautiful
friend Calpurnia Mockingbird
The walk of life is hard,
And sometimes we skip
And sometimes we dance
And sometimes we stumble
And sometimes we fall.

People always tell us
That it could be worse
Or it could be harder,
But honestly,
Sometimes you just don't care.

And sometimes it seems deeper
When you think of how sadness
Makes you appreciate happiness.

But sometimes life is hard,
And you just wonder
How it could ever be happy again.

And sometimes you're happy,
But you're scared,
Because it could be taken
Away.

But life is tears,
And sighs,
And songs,
And laughter.

Life is sadness,
And sorrow,
And joy,
And happiness.

Because a baby's first footsteps
Are always followed
By a baby's first fall.

Flowers only come
After rain clouds,
And bright light,
And breaking through a shell.

Life is sweeter
After storms,
And bright times,
And breaking through your shell.
 Jul 2014 Jaime Guzman
Syd
you know what I think? I think sleep is for people who aren't up all hours of the endless night spending each second whole heartedly loving someone. I think 2 a.m was invented for poets writing poems upon poems about the curvature of his jawline or how her lips taste like stardust and sunshine because one never seems to be enough and do beauty the justice that true love demands. how could you possibly sleep knowing you're wasting minutes and moments and hours spent being subconsciously elsewhere while her hands are empty and he's out there somewhere whispering to the moon and the stars and Jupiter and whoever else is willing to listen about how beautiful you are when you don't think anyone is looking? I once had an entire conversation with the sun about your laughter and the calluses on your palms and the very next night I found myself screaming your name at the sky demanding answers from a solar system that only offered even more questions. the north star swallowed my memories of my head on your chest and your heart beat in my ear and now all I'm left with are smudged letters and holes in the walls a little too big to fit my fists. I want to kick the door of history clear off it's hinges and choke on splinters of pride and apologies. I want to tell you that I intend to fill every single empty part of your heart with my hands and your hands with my soul. you told me I was beautiful. I always knew you were looking.
 May 2014 Jaime Guzman
first last
"So what does depression feel like"*

It feels like trying to run through the sand after you have just climbed out of the ocean.

Like trying desperately to hang on to the merry-go-round spinning out of control.

Like struggling to keep your head above water in a wave pool.

Like trying to climb up a steep slide and slipping down just as you almost reach the top.

Like gasping for air after you've had the wind knocked out of you.

Like having a crush on life knowing life will never like you back.

Do you understand now?
Next page