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Jasmin A Oct 2016
I could have died if they didn't find me in time.
If I didn't cry so loud.
If I didn't tell them how many.
If they didn't call.
If I didn't get in the car.
If I didn't drink that black stuff.
If I didn't want to disrupt what I started.

But I did disrupt.
I did drink the black stuff.
I did get in the car.
They did call.
I did tell them how many.
I did cry so loud.

I didn't die.
And I truthfully wish I had some nights.

I won't let them tell me life is worth living because
Suffering isn't worth living for.
Jasmin A Oct 2016
In the middle of the night; cool and dark; new thoughts rush and I can't wait to lay and talk with you; I wish I could have you.
Uncontrollable hair and wonderfully soaked sheets accompanied by the aroma of tulip tears and the creation of new dreams and promises we dare say to keep.

I want to listen to your every problem and hear every thought you think.
I want your lips to carve a gaping symphony of unfathomable attachment into my skin.

Possess me with your beautifully distorted spirit.
Twist around me like hungry vines on the broken cabin in Newport we could visit in the summer; I hope you'd want to be mine then;
Puncture so deep to scar me because I want to see that I can bleed into your faultless life force and mark you with deep affection.

I never want to hate you; I never could hate you.
I only wish for my impenetrable love to swaddle you;
Promise to let me perceive your eager embrace, be enriched by your rousing touch, taste your never ending love imprinted on every centimeter of your very soul.

Engulf me entirely so that I may enjoy the simple pleasures I can NEVER receive from another.
Let me be your only even if now you aren't ready; promise you will be.

Or just for tonight to ensure that promises are within our reach; you don't have to mean it but promise anyway.
After all, it's everything we've got in these hours of darkness. Hold onto that word, baby, I beg you.
Then later love me as I already do you.
For L.
Jasmin A Nov 2016
He smells of Hydrangea picked straight from Heaven's garden.
His lips letting the most fervently beautiful sound leave his body to reach me.
His eyes, containing the same pigment of my favorite chocolate, wash over me in those places he knows I want him to be.
He moves closer in the most angelic way, pushes my hair back, kisses me ever so gently.
this is what love feels like I'm thinking as he puts his palms against my back and we fall into each other like the lines on the painting we saw somewhere in Pennington.
Unfathomable. That love I feel when he looks at me, hungry yet delicate. This could never get tiring.
I'm pushed against this wall and lifted onto his hips. Clothing seems to melt off of our infinite bodies so that we may fit entirely. Flesh meshed together. I can't tell where mine stops and his begins.
This is a fairy tail that never ends as our breathing becomes a pattern into each others mouths. Me in. Him out. We're our own song. Every stroke a beat. Every moan a voice. Every scratch a strum. We're beautiful.
To the bed we go - never missing a beat. We're in sync and I couldn't love him more. More. Every stroke more. I'm on a cloud, the rest of the world no longer audible. He's panting.
I love you.
for L.
Jasmin A Sep 2016
Thoughts circle.
Blood is hot.
Can't breathe.
Find the happy place.
Wind isn't audible.
Trees no longer whisper.
Where did they go.
Why did they leave?
Do you even Love me?
It's gone.
We're gone...

long gone

Jasmin A Nov 2017
I want love.
Sad & true 'cause I miss you
Jasmin A Nov 2016
she cared about you, you know.
there was a lot you didn't see.
she stared at walls for hours when you left.
and she put you in her song book.
you're every lyric on 50 ******* pages.

Jasmin A Feb 2017
Sometimes there's just no one.
To hold, to love, to want.
Sometimes there's just nothing.
To feel, to have, to carry.

Sometimes there's just someone.
To fight, to hate, to forget.
Sometimes there's just something.
To throw, to punch, to discard.

That's okay, too.
Jasmin A May 2016
You are my winter.
You are my summer.
You are my autumn.
You are my spring.

You are my rain.
You are my heat.
You are my clouds.
My everything.

You are my snow.
You are my shore.
You are my heart.
Jasmin A Apr 2016
There you lay.
The paisley pattern of endless vacancy
death had left on your lips.
Never again will you see and feel the
infinite love I have in my heart for you.
I look at you though and not a thing
comes to mind.
I stand, my stare brimming with vacuity
and quiet tears tickling my cheeks as they
fall onto your skin.
Almost as if those tears hoped they'd
persuade your soul to come back to your
lifeless body where it rest.
But it's gone.
I am here, my heart with you.
I guess in a way that makes us the same.
We're both trapped in a cold case of despair
and loneliness.
But I loved you then and I'll love you
And with that, I will go home.
I will trace along the marks your lips once made
from ear to ear with the blade
that will lead me back.
Back to your spirit's warm embrace.
The feeling I will recognize and cherish once again.
Jasmin A Nov 2016
You hurt me.
And I bled.
And I cried.

But I loved it.

Jasmin A Nov 2017
Back to the others.
       The sun gives louder compliments.

    We cherish those with words so wrecked.

                        May we move.
Be free.
  Continue to disappoint mother nature with our

Don't judge young me, okay?
Jasmin A Dec 2016
Hers was always the only soul I ever wanted to absorb entirely.
She's the only reason I write weird **** like that.
Before her, I was plain and thought words were just empty sounds breaking through our silence when we felt like.
Before her I thought movies were for entertainment like Insidious or Rambo,
not feelings like The Perks of Being a Wallflower or Blue is the Warmest Color.
Understanding the world was the least of my worries.
But with her gorgeous insightfulness waking me every morning, I'd gotten used to curiosity and enlightenment.
I wanted to feel the world's love and soak in every perfect ending.
I wanted to listen to the voices and grasp the thickness of the meanings etched into their words.
Every laugh I heard I saw happiness.
And when I look at her I feel the entire universe hugging us as we dance along to heartbreak in The Front Bottoms' lyrics.
I want to hear her voice above all others because making sweet love to her and drenching her body with the promise of forever, well that's the one that stands out the most.
And she calls my name like I never dreamed anyone could.
The poetry she reads me is the most imaginative and splendid and I want to write like her.
To put more beauty into my font.
And I try to make the world my muse.
It'll never be as good as hers.
Because everything that ever was, is her muse.
And mine could only ever be her.
Wrote this from a man's POV. Not the best but her, idc. (:
Jasmin A Jul 2017
It's funny. The way I feel when I see fresh line paper. Untouched and calling to me. I love it. So many possiblilities. So many beautiful things to be written. What's funnier is that when I get a new notebook, it sits there for weeks. And so it stays untouched. The funniest thing is I love to write and get things out so I can look at them in proof that these words exist. In some way. Some form. I don't know why it's so difficult. I know enough metaphors and hyperboles. All the contents to make my writing swell. Readable. But I honestly think what throws me off is that no one is reading. No one is connecting with my writings like I do to Chibosky and O'Hara. No one is waiting to love my next chapter because they haven't even seen the first. I am uninspired with endless suroundings of inspiration. And no one falls in love with a bore.
Oh, the works. j.***
Jasmin A Apr 2016
The night looked at me.
The two brightest stars made it so.
The night touched me.
The hands of Autumn leaves I'll forever know.

The night held me.
With arms of Autumn trunks of trees.
The night kissed me.
The moon's peck slowly bringing me to my knees.

The night loved me.
Sharing the beauty of dark. Perfect and pure.
Then the night killed me.
To add another beautiful part, I'm sure.
Jasmin A Feb 2017
We fell in love. Nothing special. It would make more sense, though, if Love were the name of an active volcano. Having been destroyed by love was harsh. As well as listening to the sound of certain death in his heart's song, followed by incineration slowly creeping. We fell anyway though.
I, harder than he.
Jasmin A Jan 2017
Immovable, my hatred towards you for leaving.

My feelings are a thing of the past, so are you.
In case you're wondering, I never fixed the clock after the outage.
Sitting here staring at the blinking 10:32 at 5:03 AM, I hate you.
Something in common we have: we need fixing.

Yet we keep blinking and staring, waiting to stop hating you.
Out there, do you think of me as her head lays on your chest?
U*nchanging, my mood is as I look at old photos but...
                     ­             *So what?
Jasmin A Jul 2017
Nothing can upset me more than the ground
Although, I've only touched the sky in few places
The clouds tasted sweeter over the ocean
But you, your air, it's sweeter and I'd rather roam your skies
I haven't been on in so long.. J.A.
Jasmin A Aug 2017
I* want you to dance

with me forever, breathe my

air and love the pretty

night as I do

to take in every

yellow sunset streaked with

orange and red

u**s for eternity or

                for as long as you'll have me.
Jasmin A Dec 2016
Cigarettes and depression fulfill you.
You aren't any less than they are.
Don't you know that you are amazing?
There isn't another soul that matches yours so why choose to give it to the darkness?
It doesn't matter how much you're hurting or how many people don't understand you.
Don't make them understand just understand yourself.
I promise the blade won't do you justice.
Whether it's attention or the reaper you seek, do not give in.
Because that voice in your head, big or small, telling you the blade is your friend, is but a thought.
No one can hear that voice.
No one but you.
Remember that your voice is louder.
That you can scream and people will hear you.

No problem in the world is ever enough to off yourself.
I don't care how alone you are, how many people left, how abusive people can be, you are worth every breath you take.
Otherwise, you wouldn't be here.  Because if God knew you were "worthless" there would be no sense in wasting time with your creation.
Yes, your problems are something to look at but they are not you.
******, why can't you see that you're beautiful?
That the words the world drew on your skin are just pencil?
That you can erase them with a simple swipe of the other end?
If God, or whomever you believe in, gave you these problems, it's because they knew you could take it.
Because only you were strong enough pull through.
Don't view them as fate.
View them as challenges ONLY YOU were chosen to face.
Be proud that you get so much to work through because everything that happens makes you stronger than the person who has everything they ask for.
Your life could always be worse.
Never think different.

*keep going
yeah man, I don't know...
Jasmin A Dec 2016
Well I hope you'll be happy to know that I hate you and I want absolutely nothing to do with you.
And it doesn't hurt at all that you don't want me as bad as you do her.
But it's so hard to look in your eyes and try to recite those words "I hate you" because it's untrue.
I love you entirely and I want absolutely everything to do with you.
It hurts so much that you don't want me.
And I want you to know that it's okay.
That I wont end up lying on the midnight grass on our favorite hill.
That I wont cling the picture I kept of you to my chest.
That I wont chase down fifty-four pills with a bottle of chardonnay.
And I wont think of you as the letters are too blurry to read and I feel my body float to the sky and become a new planet in the back of the galaxy.
And it wont be your fault if I call you and you find me too late and the feeling of your tears hitting my lips will be the last thing I endure.
It'll all be worth it in the end because your hands will be on my neck and my back on your lap and I'll feel like I'm dancing in this dark beautiful space.
Don't worry.

*I wont.
Jasmin A May 2016
                                                                         From the man in the back with a heart of gold sitting beside his mother.

                                                                         From his mother who is having the time of her life because it's coming to an end.

                                                                         From the girl in the front row with the abusive father and dead mother whom she feels watching over her shoulder.

                                                                         From the old veteran next to her holding a picture frame of his late wife and a daffodil repeating the words "to new beginnings".

                                                                         From the little boy watching from the balcony trying to understand why mommy is crying now.

                                                                         From his mother, the thirty-year old divorcee, crying because the music is over and the curtains are closing and she felt free before the end.

                                                                         Because this place holds freedom from the real world's problems when we do not want to face them.

                                                                         To hold onto that freedom.
Jasmin A Nov 2016
You're the Ballet en Pointe;
difficult yet graceful and magnificent.

You're winter; touching my roots
and removing the orange anger
hanging from the fragile tips of
my branches after autumn weather.

You're Easter; every secret I find
hidden in your life's bushes is an egg
left by that gracious holiday creature and
I'm triumphant and I love you more.

You're California; hot and fun.
Every corner. Every turn
something new to discover and

You're mine. Stay mine, baby.
Jasmin A Jan 2017
There were certain things he couldn't hide from
like the fact that the ocean only loves him when he's drowning
like the fact that rope fit best on his neck
and the fact that razors sing louder than his crush whom he heard as he walked by the rest room

He didn't know that

There were certain things she couldn't hide from
like the fact that she gets closer to her mother when her veins leak
like the fact that alcohol tastes better when it's fighting to go down
and the fact that the ground wants her more than her crush does when she's five stories high

It's Saturday morning and he cuts his wrists over the ocean and ties the rope tight on the dock and jumps.
It's Saturday morning and she cuts her wrists on top of her five story apartment building, breathes in two bottles of tequila and jumps.

They found each other as their souls headed forward.
Funny, they thought as they told their stories.

"I didn't have to jump"
Jasmin A Dec 2016
I don't think I love you.
I shouldn't.
We are wrong in every way but
you are the one that took my innocence.
At first it's what I wanted.
But now, sitting here under these stars you once deflowered me under,
I realize that the greatest pain is knowing that
I wasn't the one you said goodbye to as you boarded
for England.
I lied though because the greatest pain speaks louder.
That I cannot be rid of the thoughts of you.
The sounds you made me spill
I never knew I could sing so beautifully,
and you were gorgeous when you looked at me.
Eyes so bright and kissing me as if I meant something to you.
I cannot say I love you but ****** it sure feels that way.
And these thoughts will not leave
you kissing my neck as I watch the stars dance
and we become them.
You don't think of me do you?
Not as I do, surly.
These thoughts, they'll haunt me.
You left without them.
You left me with them.
A true story about the man in the title... He'll never read it, thank God.
Jasmin A Oct 2016
Dewy grass in the morning
                                                                ­­             sun and I'm laying in it with


                                                   ­    ­                            The flowers in the weeds
                                                                ­­             seem much happier than we


                                                    ­       ­                  The roses have wilted in our
                                                                ­­               hearts and our love's soil is

no good.

                                                       ­    ­                       Just say that you love me
                                                              ­­                     If not truthfully then just

for me.
                                                          ­   ­                
Patience is insanity. Love is
                                                                ­­        destruction. But after all of this
                                                                ­­                            thinking and loving

still my only. And I beg
                                                                ­­                             you, my love, don't

make me wait for such
                                                                ­­                                          an exciting,

*beautiful chaos.
A poem inspired by E. Hopkins.

Jasmin A Oct 2016
You are beautiful.
Every part of you.
Even your impossible anger flourishing through those once soft sultry eyes.

I've seen silent pools of 'sorry' and 'let's forget about it's leave your tear ducts and fall onto me cheeks.
As lightweight as they are I feel them. So much more abounding with grief and true regret.

Your words had stung me before and like the boy in that movie where he kicked the nest-I was. Attacked before but now it's much worse.

The bee stings were no longer puncturing needles but silver knives in my wolverine body cutting deep in my organs, vital or not they live while my howling soul dies in unforgiving puddles of shedding fur made of crushed promises- you will never hurt me.

It's what you said and yet those wrists-tight with anger in your veins-those palms. Engulfed with the flame of the hostility you dry swallowed unwillingly along with those pink pills now coursing through your nerves.

On my bare skin those fingertips- once gently kissing my broken woman hood the same finger tips that threaded shards of broken glass together as hard as it may sound you made it happen and now threading needles turn to swords breaking thread and laying down the shear, intense, excruciating hate and I know.

I know that the holes in your heart were filled by the smell of this garden you've managed after planting in this body after others took the sunlight and poisoned the rain and drenched them with laborious despondent trickles becoming tsunamis in this heart of mine.

In this very minute I thought I was important. Like a vital *****. But how could I be so crucial to you when you made me feel so minuscule but I stay maybe not close but always.

For now let me bleed out this strenuous hate so that I can come back stronger.

Get rid of those demons you hold so dearly in your head- jealousy, being your best companion, should not be your best man at our wedding in fireflies and heartstrings of matrimony - keep me safe. Safe from your demons.

And keep me safe, then and only then, may you keep
This would have made a better slam poem but oh well. Enjoy. (:
Jasmin A Dec 2016
Blue isn't just a color.
Blue can be many things.
Blue is watching the waves spell summer with the sunset on the ocean at Ana Maria.
Blue is crying after finishing that wonderful french film and wondering what it would be like to have Leanne's life.
Blue is eating your favorite cookie doe ice cream and listening to Bon Jovi.
Blue is smelling 'Magnolia Bloom' thinking about your late grandma and missing the sound of her bickering and carefulness.
Blue is loving him even when he leaves you at your weakest because he still sounds like art and dead roses aren't so bad.
Blue is making every bit of the moon your own on the night of your birthday sitting on the roof drinking Cabernet Franc.
Blue is happiness and sunshine.
Blue is heartbreak and sleeplessness.
Blue is despair and loneliness.
Blue is love and pure kindness.

Blue is pure.
Blue is pure art.
Jasmin A Dec 2016
He saved her from finishing last in the race for top spot on the beauty scale by finishing last himself.
He knew about her dandelion kissed heart making wishes upon more wishes searching for those seeds blown by her everlasting, heartbreak drenched breath into the anonymous wind.
He saves her while she bleeds out dead crocodile tears not wanting to take the same tissue that could replenish her very soul that.
He held out for her for the past year and a half - no try eternity and a half.
As she wanders these halls she is broken and he wishes to restore her but the Hydrangea buss melted off her skin and flew to never land or was it the Netherlands?
She feels them both the same as he remembers.
Is her heart really gone because he tried so hard to chisel through the brick wall only to find stone after wretched stone?
Are her finger tips so soaked with sadness and pools of depression from wiping off what the others call... What do they call those clear, wet broken dreams she wipes from the corner of her eyelids?
Tears. Oh tears. Yes.
Tears so they called them and oh such a simple word for a much more gargantuan meaning.
As the ocean leaks from her eyelids colored black from the mascara she uses to hide those insecurities woven deep within the organs held together in a system to make that beautiful gentle dandelion that is the organism called HER.
As she wonders where the seeds have landed from those dandelions she blew in hopes of finding that forever romance she comes to find that lying on your chest the day you broke through the solitary confinement over what she thought of as insignificant - her heart grew out of that rigid boulder of a shell and she didn't have to wonder where the wind took those dreams because those dreams were under her head as she rested in that bed. your bodies leaked all over the love scented sheets rocking to lullabies of sweat and the aroma of rose petaled 'I love you's' .
He never stopped trying to break through that barrier she carried behind that feeble rib cage he made it his mission his priority careful because one small flick could cause an avalanche of deep red cells that will leak through wounds made by the razor blade that she'd call savior.
That she wouldn't call but scream and the only one who would hear it was he.
And so determination.
It drove him off the cliff called insanity only to be lifted into that cavern of a soul she had buried deep inside.
It was like entering heaven and now he knows what it feels like and no fantasy of a land that you visit after death kisses your lips ******* the breath out of your lungs through your throat could ever measure up to that moment that she looks in your eyes and your souls can no longer qualify in the world of words, terms, phrases and etcetera and etcetera and etcetera as plural.
Oh, another love song.
© Jasmin Aguinaga
Jasmin A Apr 2016
I heard you.
That night when no one was around.
The whisper that reached my ear
when I was too drunk to comprehend.

I heard you.
That night on the railroad tracks.
The train blew its horn as you let the
words leave your lips.

I heard you.
The night in the front row at the race.
The cars drove by as the phrase managed
to roll off your tongue.

I hear you.
In this hospital bed after the truck had done it's damage.
And you repeat those words in your last breaths.
The last letter muffled by the beep that went on forever.
Jasmin A Sep 2017
You let me go but I feel the warmth of your palm on mine. It's nice, I'll admit.  I've never felt something so special and innocent.

But I don't want innocent. Not now.  I don't want sweet writing. Your metaphors and happily-ever-after stories won't give me an

******. I want hot, luscious evening sweating in wild love sheets.  I want embers between my legs when we stop to catch a breath.

I want to yearn for your lips when they aren't on my skin.  I want to gasp when you touch me there. To see your smirk when I react as

you anticipate.  I want unbreakable eye-contact as we dance across the mattress to no particular beat.  I want to feel, see and taste

your soul through your magnificent body.  So throw away your words for now and make me pant in positions undiscovered by

anyone.  Make me finish so vehemently that the poor neighbors think I'm being maliciously murdered. That's all I need.
lol.... j.***
Jasmin A Feb 2017
Placid, he sits.
                             But where he lays, it's WW3

                  *"Be still, though"
Jasmin A Aug 2018
I stare at you

                      and there's something

but                      nothing
Jasmin A Dec 2017
I love the way you put your stupid

hipster glasses on the collar of your

band t-shirts to fix your straight yet

messy brown hair that you haven't

washed in a week with a thick black

hair tie that you hate to wear on your

wrist when you don't need it because

it's so bulky so you put it in your front

pocket next to two strips of emergency

gum and a can of altiods which you

finish in a day and replace at night

I love when you air guitar in the

middle of Froyo Joe's most likely to a

song on The Front Bottoms CD you're

playing on your Walkman you got at

that one thrift store and everyone

stares at you then stares at me staring

at you, smiling and laughing so much.

And I love how you bow in the most

exaggerated way that anyone could

ever possibly bow because you air

guitared so impressively (you should

definitely start yourself a band) that

the unexpecting audience applauded

you for that marvelous performance

which definitely made their evening

And I love the way you look at me in

the train car when you're dragging me

to the next town because you finally

have enough money to go to the little

store that has the same name as that

one author you love and buy the

vintage coat that smells like moths and

depression because you want to wear

it and feel like a 1923 troubled rich

woman during an early midlife crisis.

I love when you tell me the things you

love about me at 3 a.m. in this diner

after you read to me that God-awful

poem about a woman who hates

shampoo and listens to blue grass

during all her classes and we're sitting

in this diner where all the food tastes

horribly like canola oil and salt and

I am immensely in love with you
Hmmmm... crap poem ? I think yes.

© Jasmin Aguinaga
Jasmin A Dec 2016
O pleasant one
staring at the sun
ruin your eyes and bloom sunflowers
from the pupils of your idiocy

make friends with the girl in the marching band
tell her the sketchers bring out her heart
bring tears to her eyes because she
likes the sound of your heartbreak

show mother that her beauty is more
than her makeup
and her tears at night as she tries to
give you a father

paint the laughs of the people in Dubai
when you visit in the summer
after college and make the rain
your favorite because you can't stop it anyway

share the warmth of your pretty skin
with someone who will leave in 2 minutes
to board the plane and leave a hole
forever in your heart

make everything alright in your last
breaths and let your children
who cry beside you know they are extraordinary
and you forgive them for the mess with the blender
when they were twelve

you're grand so let them feel your grandness
leave every last bit of your heart
in the quiet streets you walk through
love... endlessly
Jasmin A Aug 2017
You're a bouqet of wildflowers
I'm an average red rose
We're an odd set of valentine gifts

You're a sky dive over California
I'm a picnic in the park
We're a weird combination on a date

You're a sunset on the Bahamas
I'm a hot day in Arizona
We're so far apart

You're everything I want to be and have
I'm nothing you even think about
We're something that just can't be done
You can write better, I wrote this.... see what I mean?

— The End —