windows up
walls down
in the backseat of her toyota
staring at the green fluorescent car clock
9:37
he looks over his shoulder in the passenger seat,
the boy who could breathe without inhaling
a mere party trick.
i had always wondered what it felt like to be a teen
stupid as is seems
i was sheltered once,
hidden from night rides
obscured from midnight hikes
asleep instead of the early morning mcdonald trips
my friends were more persistent on making me to eat with them
than making me exhale dancing fumes with them.
i only know the double chin grins on our snapchat stories
the rude jokes, the black ripped jeans, and snapbacks
the lime green socks that matched the stair railings
and pink sliders never looked better.
the “6:30” movies (5:30, shhh, my mom can’t know)
and the crinkling of empty water bottles in the backseat
i felt alive tonight,
even through the tough,
sushi stores and reclining movie theaters never felt more like home.
and boba stores that stay open late with neon open signs
welcome us
9:37
the “oH mY gOsH iTs a DoG” screams
the photoshoots with random men wearing fake Coach hats
the posing by wooden desks
the lights that lounge effortlessly above
encaptures our spirits and brighten them
i don’t drink, but they smoke
but tonight, beer can’t buzz us more than boba
and childish giggles escape from my wide smile.
so this is what the lullabies were about
this is what katy perry sang about
this is what i had been waiting for
to experience moments of pure awe and affection for those around me
to see them smile in slow motion when they understand a joke
or react to something
our collective experiences are understood
no words need to be ushered to empathize
as we dress like the night,
we transform into it
the stars flicker for us
the moon gives us her blessing
and the sleeping sun gives us our space
9:37
was meant for us
the clock stops
and time stretches its arms to infinity and beyond
i could live in the frozen frame of this evening
bomber jackets, jean jackets, and tattooed planets
the inside jokes, the enjoyed hoax, our future hopes
they live inside the car clock that reads, in green, 9:37

a city in the sunset

when your back caught the rays of the sun,
through slanted windows, as stripes run down your back
and when you put your arm behind my passenger seat
looking at me, losing yourself in my shy eyes
when you told me you just wanted fun
putting a lock of my hair that escaped from behind my ears back gently
when you would stand there and watch me slowly walk up to you
and embrace me with a hug and a kiss on top my forehead

i knew then i wanted you.

i wanted to take your hand
to comb your hair back with my fingers
to watch you get frustrated with the small things and laugh about it later
for you to surprise me with hugs from the back

that smile, that shirt
that look, the way my heart flutters in the chest
as you look back and grin when you see me standing there
as you sit there, leaning back, in that school desk
eyes burning holes in me

I knew then that you too, wanted me
I knew you wanted to feel our skin against each other’s
your lower lip between my lips
me on your lap, my hands tangled in your hair


and the first time you took me to your house
your dog barking, as you danced with me in front of the mirror
and as we collapsed together in laughter
and you held me there on your bed, not saying anything because there was nothing that needed to be said

i watch you watch me
I can still hear our breathing, and see you smiling
and its suddenly quiet
as the door opens and your arms suddenly unwrap around me

I knew this would happen
the only thing that could be heard was
“please, i can explain myself”
but i don’t want to hear your explanations

i just wanted to be your only
but i didn’t get to be that
perhaps it wasn’t meant to be
but i refused to let a tear drop

if you had another,
why did it feel so real?
why did my heart ache, even after knowing
you played my heart strings like a well tuned guitar?

and at that point, all i could see is our first date
a hill we had to hike up to get to the top
and me asking “are we there yet” constantly
but you never got annoyed, you just laughed and said “almost”

and then you took off the blindfold
to reveal the view of our city in the sunset
rose gold accented the buildings,
standing tall in rows next to each other

i couldn’t breathe, and you couldn’t stop smiling
and we sat there, on an old tablecloth, silent,
enjoying the company of each other
until it got too late to be out

and all I can think now is how similar we were to that sunset,
beautiful and breath taking
the glory of pinks and purples,
but it was only a matter of time before the dark of night would consume us

tore myself in two
put on a show for you
the taste of your lips
i hunger for one more kiss
a table for two
only one thing left to do,
you.
we're just a bunch of nobodies
partnership of two wannabes
just a great hyperbole
pathetic in actuality
we’re going no where
we’re bound to tear
i love the recklessness of it all
and fall when you call me your baby doll
id gladly throw myself off a cliff for you
perhaps its time to bid my adieus
but wheres the fun in saying my goodbyes
when i could stay, and let you multiply my butterflies
take from me until i can no longer give
until i forget how to live
forget how to live independently
but i need not worry, you promised me an eternity
and so i trust you with my everything
and you will forever be my king
of this soul, of this body
you’re my new hobby
and perhaps it is unhealthy,
but you’re the only one who loves me correctly
and i could care less
so ill stress, obsess, caress
until there is nothing left of us
just a ceramic jar of ash and dust
and our fates and fingers are intertwined
and you’re confined, all and only mine.

there is nothing more beautiful than nature herself
her wind ripples through the trees, rustling them quietly
she dances with the leaves and her shadow is long on the dirt road
one is never truly alone when in her company
she does not talk loudly but instead she sings from the beaks of birds
and communicates through the whispering of the wind
she is the mother of all
and she can be cold, yes
but never gone
she can lure waves to break for her
and she can erode civilizations in decades
she holds me in her palms
and keeps me warm
for the time being

the nose that sits flat
against her face burns, as
it barricades
against the tears that are
soon to flood and stain
the cheeks, the crevices where her nostrils meshed
with her upper lip. the shattered glass that surrounded her rippled,  
a sea of diamonds.
her hands were pressed in a pool
of their own blood as it seeped
slowly from her cold claws.
the sharp stinging
eventually dulled, but
the scratches embedded in her throat
were still angry and raw, her knuckles
were crusted with the liquid
of dead roses. her gut
was empty, yet still
she retched, but the demons would not
allow her to exorcise them so she stuck
******* down her throat,
as if she could scoop them out.

a years worth of memories

nostolgia
a windowsill
in a moving car
i miss you still

your foggy breath
and the heated bus
the suitcases in the trunk
it was just me and you, us

i remember the first night we touched
the concert of beautiful chaotic noise
and how rough your skin felt under my fingertips
the night we hung without your boys

perhaps I see through a pair of rose tinted glasses
but i believed you loved me
although it is only an inaccurate supercut
of what we really used to be

but through it all
i know our moments shared were not wasted
i know now that we are tiny in the grand scheme of things
and i know any future relationship will always be copy and pasted.

the internal ***** located in the left breast
slows
i want it to stop
i want the yelling in the next room to stop,
i want the slamming doors to shut up
i want to leave the cage of blames
i want to feel free
home feels different from the expectations built
the christmas lights in june are my only comfort
it always comes back to the future
every argument, every frustration, everything
we all worry about the future,
not enough time is spent in the now
because we all fear the snap of the void
existence becoming nothing
ash and dust
n o t h i n g.
we worry about the inevitable
we run from the angel of life and death
our legacies are the only things left of us
but we don’t even have that
what is a legacy if there were no life?
what is a legacy when one can’t enjoy it?
those with legacies are six feet underground
what is the use of a legacy
when the sun collides with the earth
when the sky falls, when the human race falls
when we fall
there will be no god, no higher power to rescue us
there will be no mercy for humanity
so what is the use of a legacy
when one’s name
stops staining lips
and when the end nears
i will be terrified
i will tremble and sob
i will cling on pathetically
because the future will come back to me
because the unknown haunts me
and hovers in the back of brain
so perhaps while i can
i will distract myself with meaningless plans
with collisions and sparks and love
because the future is just a breath away

To: Jenny
Subject: Backward ideas

Jenny,
A lady should only speak when spoken to
Do not say
Be quiet!
You can only be graceful, be mellow
Do not tell me
A lady should speak her mind
I know that
A lady should never be aggressive,
You will not tell me
“I want to express control over my own body”
Understand the importance of these words
To Sit still,
To Look pretty
To Talk less
Do not tell me
Women do not need to be put in their place
It was your gender’s fault
That this is the structure of our society
It’s not normal
Accept this,
Dad

check(mate)

you know what you're doing
you know what game you're playing
you know the pain you’ll cause
and you enjoy it

you play with me like you play with fire
not caring about the burns
because the burns don't affect you
they only affect me

and I watch you play your games
with me
with her
with every girl you see

and I know all this
I know your tricks
your rabbit out of the hat
but yet I sit here and let you saw me in half

and I turn my tired eyes
because I don't want to see this
but you don't see this
how can I make you see this?

that you're hurting me
you're squeezing this heart hidden behind brick walls
you're crushing this delicate bird that flutters in my chest
and you're breaking its wings so it no longer beats

and you're watching me crumble
watching me cry
watching this curse that you placed on me corrupt me
but this time you turn your eye

and I
am left to be a pawn in this chess game
as you kiss my cheek
and checkmate me, another fallen queen

8/23/17
A dog barks, the clock ticks, the keyboard clacks as I type. The sink hums as my dad washes the dishes, and the passing cars can be heard, the wheels going whoosh. You can hear the neighbor’s kid’s crying every so often. A door creaks, and a light breeze dances through the curtains. These sounds are the sounds I write to, the quiet that isn’t really quiet. These sounds are hushed, but if you really want to listen, you can hear it.
I sit there, in that beat up chair, and I write. It’s not really writing, it’s scribbling, it’s thinking, it’s the breath that comes in and out of my lungs, it’s the smudging of ink and lead on my fingers and hands. It’s me.
The beat up chair, and the stuffiness of the room, all things I can feel beneath my legs, on my forearms.

My life is ingrained in ink. The ink of newspapers, of my pens, of the words I’ve written.

The pen in my hand, clutched between my ******* and thumb, with my pointer finger resting on it. The only form of comfort is felt in my hands, my companion [com(pen)ion haha], we communicate in our own language,

Writing is different for everyone. Some people sit for hours on end and cannot think of anything to write, and others don’t stop writing until their hands cramp up, and hurt too much to continue. I’ve been both types of people, but either way, I love writing. I love the feeling of a pen and paper. My pen bleeds onto paper in the ways that I cannot. It seeps, and it satisfies, and when times get tough, I can always go back to it, and write what I am feeling, not as a way to preserve my sadness or anger, but to let it out, to prevent myself from feeling hopeless, voiceless. There is always an audience with a notebook, and I don’t have to reserve a time; my notebook will always be there. I can speak how I feel freely, with no judge ruling over me. It is the only sense of freedom I get sometimes.

My room is 10 feet by 10 feet, with my creaky bed in the far right corner and a peeling table across the room. Funny that it’s called room, when there isn’t a lot of it. But I don’t really mind, this is the only home I really remember. There are shelves on each side of the room, one over the bed, with 10 hollow ribs just like in a skeleton. This area is filled with ideas. Those ideas are books, a Scrabble box, and an empty camera. Another shelf is lined up on the far left side of the room, containing old text books and headphones that don’t work anymore. These shelves sandwich my mattress on the floor.

I lie on my mattress, wide eyed, heart beating, as my thoughts begins bouncing in the walls of my brain. I have a habit of writing them down now, so I can get them out of my head and onto smooth lined paper. The only sound in the house is the pencil scratching the paper I cannot see, and the occasional sound of a cricket's chirping. Night after night I sit up in bed, staring blankly at the wall, taking my thoughts from my head and onto paper. This has been a comfort ever since I was young, being able to express myself another way than speaking. I’ve discovered that spoken words come difficult to me sometimes. My lips may fail me, but my hands won’t.

“I just want to sleep. Just let me sleep.” It’s too late for that, my thoughts tell me. Ironic isn’t it? It’s 12 in the morning and my thoughts won’t let me sleep, which is really needed. Instead they decide to keep me up, constantly bothering me, asking me questions I cannot answer. These thoughts have always been there,  just suppressed, silenced. But now, they’re waking up, stretching themselves. When I need to sleep, they need to keep me up. It’s just how things are now, they live in my head permanently. It’s their full time job they take quite seriously. They constantly tap me on my shoulder and tell me things I don’t want to hear. They constantly whisper things I block out. And more often than not, they’re negative. What does that say about me as a person?

Have you ever seen a person slapped? I have. It was in a movie, in slow motion. My brain could not process the speed at which it was executed, as her head snapped left, the back of his hand made a loud thwack, followed by heavy breathing, and quiet crying, the kind where you tremble, and I cried with her, as she held the side of her face, tears dripping down her trembling lips, as he advanced towards her again, preparing to impart another blow. All I could hear was screaming, I was screaming for him to stop, he was screaming, and I’m sure we woke up our neighbors. And then silence. Too loud, too heavy. And I’m back in my roomless room, door closed, breathing hard, breathing shallow. Not the first time, and definitely not the last time. There is that feeling again. Helplessness. It eats up my insides, twists me, treats my brain like clay, pushing, molding, spinning me until it’s hard to breathe, hard to see. I don’t know what to say, what to do. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do?

[Someone who does not have the same experiences that I have will not know what I know, it’s a given. But there’s a lack of empathy that I feel. Excusing my experiences because yours are not similar to mine does not make your experience more “right”. There is no right, no wrong when it comes to experiences. There just is. ]

We all wear different masks, some we make, others, given to us. We are told to play a role, by ourselves or by the people around us. We are to act as expected, as a stereotype.

I write. I write and I write until my pencil led runs out, until my pen is warm in my hands, until my crying has stopped, and until the pages are full of wobbly scratches.
*
Looking up, through the railings of the stairs of my apartment, all I can see is a heavy blanket of fog, clouds so heavy, I can feel it in my lungs. No sun can be seen, but it’s still bright, just cold. I’ve always enjoyed the rain, the way you can see it drip from a leaf, clear, calming, quiet. The way you can see it fall in sheets, in lines falling fast from the sky, and how it creates dots on the cement, how it stings when it hits my skin, cold, sharp. When I walk, it doesn’t mind walking with me. It likes blurring my vision through my eyelashes and my glasses, it likes getting in my hair, and it likes my smooth skin, it is the only thing that doesn’t mind my presence. With the rain, I don’t feel so alone, I don’t hear myself, and instead I hear it, hitting different surfaces, telling me the same thing. It’s a constant sound, whispering it’s secrets to those who are willing to listen. I love spending time with it, because it will never be disappointed, and it’s touch is comforting, it’s cold matching mine.

she felt nothing, she felt
everything,
she felt the ever present emptiness
slowly gnawing
clawing at her insides, whispering the
relief that could come from succumbing
to its comforting abuse
the caress of an icy blade against
the frantic veins on her neck
that raise themselves every time
she breathes
and her chest rises, only to fall
after all she'd fought against,
after all that she fought for
the blurring of her vision was the last
thing she remembered about him
she wanted nothing to do with his seductive charm
but he was already a part of her, she
brought him every where she went
he used to leave handprints in deep purple paint
around her neck
now, he dug his fingers into her
subconscious, leaching,
bleeding her of her potential
she could feel him, and she feared his reappearance daily
she waited for him
to leave a bouquet of dead roses on her doorstep,
to draw the red morning dew from her wine colored lips
to leave a trail of blackened marks on her hips
to tenderly wipe the tears from the eyes that he made swell
she spent more time trying to convince herself she was well
than she spent outside
most days
she lived through a haze,
and when his ways would alter
after he kneeled at the altar,
she would hold on to those brief moments
so when the honeymoon was over,
she could hold up the frozen and broken
memories of him sober

Destiny

i think I’m in love with you
your freckles placed in all the perfect places
i have never laid eyes on anyone as beautiful as you
your belly, your kisses,
i want to make you my mrs.
everything about you radiates like sunlight,
bright, the light of my life

maybe i knew i was in love with you
when we snuck into the city pool
the different evening hues of blues reflected
onto the most beautiful face God ever created
tomboy, you exude confidence
you’re my destiny
my excellence, my queen my princess
your eyes, sea specked emerald
your hair, damp and curly
you.
your culture, you represent
your skin, you take pride in
you.
your tattoos, like braille under my fingertips
goddess of the moon
i love you, i belong to you

maybe i knew i loved you
when we baked apple pies to have a picnic,
(i still have your floral blouse,)
and you rowed us out to the rivers
between the mountains behind your house
when we were boating, floating, breath holding,
you need love to feel alive
and i need you to love being alive
you are so free, a butterfly, the wind, my high

maybe i knew when we stayed up watching Pokemon
on an ancient glowing box, the ones that have VHS slots
not quite a television
the ones that say play in blocky letters
where we would sit and watch in nothing but our oversized sweaters
your energy,
your hands between my thighs
the days we would eat fries, through the window,
watching the sky pass by
there are many things about you,
you are unapologetic, i admire that
you have me under your spell, witchcraft

maybe i knew when we clung to the end of the train
instead of paying two fifty for a ticket,
the wind whipping, slapping the hair into our faces, onto our lips
everyday we were together was an eclipse
our hearts practically mended into one
you were the most splendid, the most fun

maybe then i knew
ripped denim jeans, black belt
you’re my Calvin model
with a brush of your fingertips,
you could make me melt
the comic books spread messily but aesthetically
across the white bedsheets we lay on, unmovingly
in each others arms for days,
we had no price to pay
you are the most fabulous ***** in the room, i agree
no other could have what you have, you are someone i need

maybe i knew i loved you when the sun set,
as we watched on the roof tops of the endless new york skylines
you are a gorgeous woman, i agree
our chemistry,
the way you walk
your personality, i need to pause just thinking about you
your voice, your accent,
our matching checkered vans, our matching tattoos
i love you.

don’t question it

the sky is blanketed in gray
its days like these that i feel the emptiness
the black hole that has made its home in the pit of my stomach
I can feel it physically
like something is missing where my large intestines used to be
or maybe i feel it in my heart
my pulse is fast, but I feel slow
My friends tell me that I think too much
I’m too sensitive
i work too hard
are they right?
does it matter?
and now I’m questioning everything
what is beyond our life?
what is beyond my knowledge?
am I educated?
and does the limit exist?
and why does it ******* matter
why does a letter
on my report card
mean so much to me?
I find myself obsessed with percentages
A minus versus A
why does it matter?
why am i frustrated over homework
and as i stand in the shower
letting the water hit my back
I feel so…
blank.
so i pass my time with homework
with vine compilations on youtube
but i still feel the darkness
the emptiness
in the back of my head
as i lay on my side staring at the wall
blank
the voices in my head
is too loud
but I’m the only one who can hear it
“will you ever be good enough?”
“what is good enough?”
“what does your future hold?”
looking into my future is like looking over the ledge of a cliff
a plummet into darkness
just like the space in my head
so i don’t think
i don’t think other than the math equations
or the final projects
or the translation exercises
as long as the music in my ears are louder than the voices
i can convince myself this is what will fill the emptiness
at least I won’t have questions to ask

he is a boy
a boy i only just met
with crazy colored curls
who melted my heart
with his voice
so soothing
so adorable
i don’t know why i blush seeing you
i don’t know why i love you so
i don’t know how you have me shivering from your fingertips
or how you hold me on your couch
and tell me once again the story of your parents
of how they fell out of love
how you don’t want a future like theirs
but enough about me what about you he asks me
i don’t know what to say
im just magnetized to you
the energy you radiate
and the rowdiness you create
mum calls you a ***
but i could care less
yeah you smoke cigarettes
yeah you were arrested twice
you, oh you
you have me whipped
have me in love
in love with the thought of you and with you
your lips only produce the most poetic of phrases
you’re so talented,
you can smile genuinely when speaking of something so sad
your voice, talk me to sleep babe
whisper with your arms around me
your head resting on mine
yeah he goes on tangents,
but that makes me even more in love
the rhythm of your voice inspires the beating of my heart
****
I’m so into you its unhealthy
help me oh gosh
yeah we made love on your twin sized mattress you had since you were 7
yeah you didn’t go to college
but who gives a ****
he has dark eyebrows
dark hair
dark clothes
dark lungs
dark eyes
i stare into
they contain all the warmth i will need
they comfort me
yeah we imitated your parents
yeah the wine glasses were shattered from your pure rage
yeah my arms are covered in bruises
but my collar bones are covered in hickies
i don't think theres much of a difference in coloration
i guess your parents were on the right track when they became a statistic
i guess the butterflies in my stomach migrated
i guess we’re over
i guess falling out of love was inevitable

for her.

my heart stopped yet skipped
the first time i saw you through the screen
a moving glimpse, yes
but the trees held their breath in anticipation of the storm to come a beauty i had never seen

she had beautiful long hair
that shimmered with her every move
a beautiful voice that was pure
and she had this confidence, this groove

i could write novels about her
i could write one for her
songs to celebrate her
to glorify her

i get nervous hearing her voice
she sounds like pink and purple sunsets
she feels like drinking a pinacolada, cooling, calming
she gives me this buzz, as drunk as ill get

how lovely her voice is
i think i love her
maybe i do
perhaps its her magnetic lure

or her **** nails
maybe her white crop top
she wore
on our first date

or her eyes,
that look so similar to mine
that shine so brightly

and we’re so close
i can see my eyes in hers
her eyes are mirrors
reflecting the love i feel towards her

the stars cannot compete
with her beauty
einstein cannot compete with her brains
and no one is more strong, more beautiful, or more amazing than she.

from my spot in the sky

i’ve never seen snowflakes before
the first time i opened up my airplane window
i was intrigued by the tiny dots and lines
and below, the long houses looked like toothpicks!
the buildings look like ants from my spot in the sky
roads carved into the mountain ridges
so this is where our founding fathers came
the land of amber waves of grain
from my spot in the sky
the mountain ridges look like black sand dunes, something one would expect to see in the Sahara
wisps of cloud lounge, hovering above the land so big my eyes do not see the end
the land looks like a map, so many places and such busy twisting roads
people live in those houses!
outside this plane is below freezing!
they say everything is bigger in America,
which is evident in the size of this place
the river that looks like a blue and white snake
and the long metal houses that stretch like my 9th grade yoga instructor
I forget how plane rides are,
hovering above a new place
or a familiar one
seeing through the eyes of God
where everything is small,
problems and people alike
from my spot in the sky
I don't need to say anything
I don't need to do anything
I can just watch the world enlarge
or shrink
and feel a distance from all the wrongs of the world

gatekeeper

i am the gatekeeper of my body
of the treasure between my legs
of the body that is wrapped in silks and satin
diamonds, gold, sterling
hidden in the folds of my priceless curves
i am the gatekeeper of my temple
men and women, come one and all
to see me placed on an alter
i am no longer a nobody
i am a goddess and i hold power in my posture
i hold confidence in my words
and a crown on the crown of my head
and i will no longer bite my tongue at the expense of another
i am the gatekeeper of the heaven placed between my thighs
you will never touch me without my permission
you will not look at me without my permission
i am sick of men thinking they deserve something from me
i am tired of people thinking they own me,
that they get a slice of this pound cake
you think you are entitled to me
you are wrong
if you think you can tell me what to do, what to wear
you are mistaken
i am the gatekeeper of my precious mind
i hold infinite answers on the tip of my tongue
i hold a heart in my left breast
and i hold myself with confidence
you will not let you take away the rights i am endowed
you will not tell me what to do with my body
i am sick, tired, disgusted of someone holding me on a chain
so i will bite the hand that feeds me
because it feeds me nothing but lies and oppression
i am free, and i will stay that way
try me, try to buy me,
you will never be able to afford me,
i am worth more than a ferrari
i am fearless
i am strong
i am the gatekeeper.

kind sir,
tell me what its like to fall in love
tell me what it feels like to hold their hand
to kiss them
and what if feels like to hold them tightly
do they feel like sunshine?
does their hair bounce as lively as they themselves?
what is it like to spend time with them
in their small bedroom
with white curtains
and an out of date calendar?
what is it like to look at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.
and to swim in their eyes
to get giddy off their giddiness?
tell me, kind sir
will i ever experience this for myself?
will i ever experience this phenomenon
that so many breathe as religiously as oxygen?
will i depend on someone to give me the attention
the love
the happiness i seek?
is there a way to be my own
without someone categorizing me as the “single cat lady”?
or telling me “you haven’t found the right person” or “you’ll find someone eventually”?
i am sick of feeling that someone knows me better than i know myself
should i be bitter, or should i be sweet?
kind sir
i am jealous of you
you feel so deeply
love so endlessly
and break so beautifully
you are everything i wish i could be
a man educated in the art of butterflies
a man of emotion
the king of hearts
kind sir,
you say you feel twice as much as a normal human does
perhaps that is why i feel half of what a normal human feels

a cigarette is clenched between her teeth
and as she takes a deep drag,
she tilts her head back to exhale
a trail of smoke curls and leaves her parted lips
drifting into the twilight sky
only a trace of its smell is left in its wake
she looks over the edge of the balcony
that hangs over her pool
putting her pressure on her elbow
the blue hues danced across her face
white and blue swim on her skin,
a projection, a reflection
the ashes that fall off her cigarette fall into the pool
and decide to either float or sink into oblivion
the horizon that was once god’s strawberry cotton candy
melted into the dark burnt curtain of night
and as the stars awoke one by one
she took my hand into hers,
and flicked the remains of the cigarette into the unnatural blue below
“come with me” she whispered, breathless,
a smile on her face, a bit more than buzzed
we ran up the stairs laughing,
and i could already taste her strawberry lips
and feel her soft tongue
as night was defeated by light
we lay down to our earned slumber
in the queen sized bed
half covered by blankets and soaked in sweat
as we sink deeper into each other
the fantasies that once filled our mouths
come to life, bursting, drifting, exposed
i would have it no other way

the sun sleeps behind a blanket of clouds
i am surrounded by crowds
and yet loneliness preys on me
i pray no one observes or sees
i have buried myself in a cemetery
alone, i am content and happy
and yet my thoughts ramble restlessly
the time i feel alone stretches out endlessly
loneliness reminds me of a con man
his lies convince me alone i stand
he cheats me out of all that could have been
and informs me i deserve hell, there i will pay for my sins
no one tells you how isolating it is to exist
ironically, we feel alone in each other’s midsts
people avoid the odd one out
people avoid those who are silent, and those who shout
our species is cruel to its own kind
eyes lose their shine, we don’t realize we are confined
there are holes in all of us,
why is it we never discuss
the craters we create, and the craters others leave,
i can’t even begin to perceive how easily
we call each other ***, *****, pig
we never stop to empathize
we think only of the things we would jeopardize,
always on the fence about one another
yet we are all mothers, brothers, each other’s
perhaps we are satisfied with being alone
maybe ill be happier sitting on a throne, overthrown
someone told me victory is tastiest when achieved individually
but i think differently,
i believe we don’t need to suffer miserably, individually
i know loneliness takes all we can commit to it,
often times, it leaves us feeling like ****,
loneliness is love’s counterfeit
they promise to fill a hole, and yet the cavity remains omitted
but i chose to believe that the broken can mend
and i chose to believe the paths we walk are not dead ends.

you’ve been on my mind recently
i don’t think i love you
perhaps just the idea of loving someone is enough
or more accurately, the idea of someone loving me
i know it was never anything real
when you complimented me
or tried talking to me
but it’s too late now,
i’ve been consumed by my thoughts of you
but i have become obsessed with the idea of you
and it drives me to insanity
yearning to know if “what if” could be definite
and i know it’s so insignificant compared to the vastness of the sky
and the overwhelming stresses of day to day life
but i tell myself you are the most important thing life has to offer

i hate it
i hate that no matter where i am
or what i’m doing
you find a way to seep into the crevices of my brain
and make the contents in my chest quiver
i hate that i feel unwanted because of you
it should not be your decision to make me feel worthy
yet your validation has suddenly become
the purpose of the breaths i take
i want nothing to do with you,
but even saying that, i know it is a deadpan lie
i know you aren’t interested
you’re too good for and to me and my desperate soul
so i will repress this hopeful, naive heart
that believes in the impossible
i know your love isn’t love
i know your kindness isn’t as harmless as it seems
yet i still think about your hands and hair over dinner
and imagine gazing into your eyes when reading any book

love is meant for fools
and i will not be made a fool of
not by a boy with bright red hair
and a bright warm smile
i will not be made a fool of
by a boy who’s love will never manifest deeper than my skin
i had always admired from afar
but it’s time to really distance myself
i need to stop looking for your red head
in the sea of brunettes and blondes
i need to stop myself and my brain
from searching for you
you once were interested in me
and as you break my heart as i once broke yours
the balance of the universe is restored
yet i don’t feel steady
i don’t feel equilibrium

i want the void that consumes me
i want the void to be filled, preferably by you
but it wasn’t meant to be
i wasn’t made for you
you know you’re too good for me
conversations fall flat
being with you would take copious amounts of work
work that won't be put in by either of us
i want the relationship with all the benefits
without the heartache and wet cheeks

i wonder who you love now
i wonder if you still change your interest
like the tides are influenced by the moon every night
i wonder if the one who has gained your interest is gorgeous,
with an extroverted personality
i wonder if they have all the things you wanted me to have
but could never develop
i can’t believe you would make me weak in the knees and in the head
i know you are an unhealthy habit i indulge in,
but buried in my gut,
i whisper prayers to a god i do not believe in
i pray that your soft spoken eyes will fall upon me
and that an electric current will go through your body
i pray you are slowly driven to madness,
the insanity that has enveloped me
i will refuse your actions
because i don’t really love you

i love the idea of someone loving me
i love the power i have over you
i do not love you
i love the attention you provide
i love the thought of getting what i want
feeling your blood drip through my fingers
as i squeeze your heart in my clenched fists
you don’t realize this, but you’re a pawn in my chess game
i am bedridden, sickened because you refuse to participate
but that’s okay
i don’t want or need you as desperately as i once thought
i will let you go, and although i will miss
fantasizing over the idea of you
you will truly be the one who loses in the end,
i have no doubt

do i love you?
or the idea of you?
why do i have a desire
that stems from my gut
that wants to reach out
and brush
the hair out of your eyes
why do i feel
like i want to breathe in
the same air you do
to grasp at the wings
on your back as i arch
my body into yours
why does my stomach turn
my lungs quiver
hands waver
when i see you
just a few feet away
laughing with her
looking only at her
her eyes capturing
your soul
how i wish i was enough
to be her, to be enough
to hold your attention for
more than a glance
more than a smile
more than a hello
i wish you would look at me
the way you gaze at her
lips when she talks, or remain
breathless
as you cup her jaw
and become entranced
and when the edges of her eyes
crinkle as she smiles
i look on, wishing you could
gaze at me the way
you do her
when she moves
in closer to intertwine
her fingers with yours
i would much rather
pin your wings
to the wall than to let her
have you
i wish you knew i would kiss
away the red and purple
stains she leaves
on your skin
that i would inhale you
like the oxygen that
enters me
my lungs
skin
but alas
we are destined to walk
upon separate paths
yours with her
and mine without you

the electricity runs through our veins
and past the street signs we rumble by
in the car you stole, we go fifty above the speed limit,
the roof of the car is the noir sky above
and the midnight rain pelts our upturned faces
the dancing drops of water drip onto our smiling lips
the sound of the sky collapsing
echoes the flashes that streak the sky,
the flickering light casts paved roads with a brief brightness
(as if god were wearing light up sketchers)
the lacy brallette that wears me
gives me the bravery to stand up in the speeding car
the velvet pants that ripple with the wind
drink up the nighttime rain
and the rare headlights race past us,
heading into homes and hearts
the mellow playlist that connects the aux cord to our ears blasts
so loud, we can no longer hear our insecurity
the mascara that once clung to my eyelashes
now streams down my face.
on a two way street,
we drive down the middle
unafraid in the face of direct dangers
so unaware of the towering empty skyscrapers
and instead highly exhilarated
from the street signs we drive by
too fast to read the blocky lettering
the road signs glint, smiling as we wave and reach towards them
the cigarettes you smoked are thrown through the open window,
still smothering slightly.
i can still taste the smoke on your lips
and your hand tucks my hair behind my ear
and as the wind objects and inhales
unreal in the hazy a.m. car trip
the tunnel rushes towards us,
and we both hold our breaths,
as if breathing would contaminate us.
the lights that glint, cast a yellow-white glow
and for once, i see you for who you are
a boy too buzzed to feel
a kid who only felt "sort of"
a person who couldn't heal
and a lover who could never give love

the skyline is a piece of thread stretching
from one end of the horizon to the other,
the lights from inhaling buildings
provide sporadic constellations,
like the night sky above the sleepless streets.

for those who comment on your skin
as if it were their own
should realize they do not OWN you
or your body
the only thing they can own are your insecurities
so set yourself free
let yourself breathe
and reclaim what is rightfully your own

nostalgia
as soft sun filters through palm leaves
and the clouds purple, the skies painted pastel pinks
surfboards stand seven feet tall
the salt water glowing, sparkling
a dark watercolor blue hue
i am reminded of the spring and summertime
of happier days
as I drive by the sea that glints waves to me

I’m tired of being treated the way he treats me
Through his looking glass, I am only an image of a limp retired doll
Something to turn on when he wants to pick at heartstrings,
Or to make me dance for him, my insides tied to his quick fingers
I'm addicted to the way he strokes me with his fingers,
The way he plays me as i sing, scream
with numbing pleasure, the kind you feel reverberate within your chest
But i know he doesn’t feel the same
He only grips me tight when he’s bored, wants entertainment, wants to feel wanted,
He only loves the taste of affection dripping from between my legs
because i give it without question
He knows that he’ll have someone to disappear into when he’s craving the touch of red silk
Or to play with until he becomes bored of yet another game
for him, I smile, I laugh, I act, im easy to manipulate, to use,
But to be used by him felt innocent, felt lightheaded, felt giddy,
The smiles from him were enough to make me feel that i was truly alive
So i listen with interest and concern without him ever doing the same for me
I allowed him into my head before i kissed his,
kept him in my heart before i invited him between my legs
Dreamed of his hands long before i held them
But that was my mistake
allowing someone who i knew couldn’t provide me the love i so desperately craved
that's the cycle we spun in, my smile only used to *** on,
my throat to swallow, and my voice to ask for more
Somewhere deep down, I knew he didn’t feel the chest palpations, he couldn't feel the sun dappled against his skin, didn't care when i tapped out my heartbeat on his chest, my fingers feeling nothing beneath them
And to realize that not only did he not feel these instincts,
But that he does not care about me the same way i care for him,
To realize that im just someone to inhale and exhale,
and return to only when he wants someone to listen and to hold him
But im bitter now, bitter at the sweet i used to be
Because i always give myself to people who don't see my value
And only see someone to use, to watercolor yellow for a while
While they disregard my many emotions, my art, my writings
I thought this time i got it right, but i swerved left yet again,
excusing his harm as a fixable flaw
I ignored all the waving red flags
My red silk used against me

Regret

my memory fails me,
for i cannot recall the first time we met
the part of you that was a part of me
has submerged itself into subconsciousness

perhaps we first met in our 9th grade poetry drama class,
when you would wear a variation of your dad’s tees
your thick glasses balancing on your flat nose
perhaps it was at the benches where your eyes first met mine

i cant remember what your favorite song was,
you had so many
i should remember more things about you
yet my head puts a helmet on to keep me from the truth

the audio recordings on my phone are not you anymore
you’re someone different, someone new
i think its a better you, but i can’t be certain
our souls are magnets of similarity, repelling each other

all i recall about you is the happiness bubbles provided you
how you said they made you happy
even when you stood on your 18th story balcony
saying you wanted so desperately to just jump

your voice has changed
its deeper, it cracks more now
it sounds nothing like the boy i once knew
who intertwined his hands and lips with mine

please remind me of our first date…
why can’t i remember it? why can’t i recall it?
i can no longer recall the day i said sure,
only that it was in april, and i was a fool, and you were a joke

we broke up 3 months before our first anniversary
before i broke it off
and broke you

i still remember my fake tears,
and your very real ones
i remember afterwards, this feeling of relief
should i have felt something different?

i feel guilt for not feeling anything
should i have force felt something? anything?
anything other than the feeling of a bird freed from its cage?

the words we exchanged whisper themselves into oblivion,
the “i love you’s” empty and devoid of meaning.

should i have pitied you like i did those nine months
should i have let you crawl inside me again?
just a momentary comfort, a twisted way to show my love?

i will remember these events,
as i was your first lover,
and you were my last

star gazing

have you ever seen the stars in the night sky?
not the duly pulsing stars
but the stars that take your breath away
as you crane your neck back, trying to take it all in

see the sky like a curtain
with holes poked through the thick cloth
the sky itself dark like pen ink
and the stars that shine like flashlights at dusk

I just stand there, in awe of everything
and I can feel how vast the sky is
how cold the air I breathe in is
how the wind whips around my body

as I become the art I'm starring at
that God himself painted on a milky black canvas
hair in my slightly parted lips,
still standing there, watching the world spin ever so slowly

as I stand outside my tent
all I can hear is the rush of the waves
hitting the soft sand
and the trees whispering forgotten love songs

goosebumps cover my arms
a smile appears on my lips
and my glasses show eyes that shine as bright as the stars
maybe thats why its called star gazing

as we admire the stars, the stars admire us

you should see the way they look at each other
as if the universe exists in the specks of their eyes
as if the sun and stars
were brought to their knees at the parting of his lips
both depraved of soft looks, soft lips, soft fingertips
they think their eyelash flutters go unnoticed
but you could practically feel
how the air softens around them
the earth herself couldn’t help but smile
and when they sneak glances at each other,
each when the other isn’t looking
there is an obvious moment of genuine awe
and i can see them fall head over heels again,
as if from the beginning
the moments and memories slow,
as a halo hovers above him,
galaxies gather to admire the angel and his lover

anything is possible when they’re together
death cannot grasp them,
disease and dissatisfaction try in vain
but the warmth they feel towards each other
fuels them for lifetimes to come
the red that bumps in his heart seeps through his smile
and for once,
the cold evenings that once were filled with eternal darkness
no longer feel so lonely
they don’t say it, but i see it
i see the way their pinkies brush when they walk together
and the way they admire the sunrise together

earth stopped rotating to give the lovers
a moment of silence
as the waves, foaming at the lips slowed,
and hover over the sand,
completely still in anticipation of impact
he stared at him then, and slowly took in the boy’s face
he focused on how his eyes glazed over when he was admiring the seagulls,
their wings outstretched in the pink purple sky
and he knew then
however many lifetimes he had to sacrifice
he would do so without hesitating
for the boy with smile lines that gathered at the corner of his eyes
for the boy who could make his heart speed and stop altogether
for the boy who, while so unaware, was so beautiful
in both their chests, they knew it was love,
and from both their eyes, they professed it

of course i see you in every face,
in any and every place
you’re the first person i see in crowds
your face even appears above in the white clouds
you are permanently carved into the shadows behind my eyelids
i am only aware of what it feels like to be a desperate kid
only aware of being naive and being infatuated, agitated, deflated
so God, this is how it is to be?
forcing me to love a boy, who has no concern for me?
you taunt me day and night
you haunt me in sun rise and moon light
you appear every time i blink,
and i tell my self not to sink, not to think
to think of you at least once a day
as if my brain needs a fix of you, child’s play
you refuse to even breathe in my direction,
yet i see you everywhere in glossy reflections
always following me through the journeys i make
you make me heart ache,
you make my heart break,
theres too much at stake
i don’t want to be this obsessed with you
with or without you, I’m blue,
a pathetic person who is covered head to toe,
overflowed with the color of cold lips,
of veins, and frozen fingertips
i know our futures are not intertwined
i know you are far too good to me and for me, bear that in mind, i know you'll decline
you will forever live in my head only as the “what if”
but i will continue loving you in ink and hieroglyphs
six years of my wavering loyalty and lips
hoping one day we’d align, an eclipse
but hoping won’t get me far
you were a star i could look at from afar,
a place i could dream of the bizarre
you were the thing that made life worth living for
but i have to stop myself from thinking of you once more,
i need to leave everything in the before,
and finally let myself soar.

“and he will rule over you.”

I am not ready to release my religion
the consistency of it has grown with me
i am afraid
if i unleash it from my soul
the preached darkness will consume it
i am afraid
that the possibility of its factuality and actuality
will hover in the atmosphere at noon
i am afraid
that by dismissing God too soon
he will dismiss me

Ironically, with my gaining of knowledge,
i have come to begrudge the man in the sky
who has cursed my *** to serve man
to be taken out of man, to exist only within man
he has given a text for those to quote
when arguing the entrapment of women
how am i to recognize the being
when he has ****** me
to be at the elbow of an entire gender
has blamed my kind for the original sin of sins
The Bible has shaped the complications of communities
it has manipulated the societies that barely function
it has forced people to fight for the basic rights all should hold
how am i to forgive such sins committed against my kind?
to accept the influences of a book that is thousands of years old
that still governs my everyday life?

love
its a beautiful thing really,
its brutal, its strong
it so deep, and so heartwarming,
and at the same time,
it makes me want to cry, scream
pound my bed,
punch the white cement wall until my knuckles are ******, raw
and the wall has a display of reds.
it makes me want to break an elegant expensive vase, and crush it in my hand.
its destructive, desired, dangerous,
and yet
i want to laugh
i want to sing
and dance!
dance to oh what a night
dance with my yellow watercolored pillow case, with my favorite pillow stuffed inside
oh, love is so peculiar isn’t it?
its spectacular,
and its like standing in the middle of a ballroom
where dresses and suit ties of different hues reflect the chandelier light hanging from the ceiling,
an array of rainbows cast on the walls.
and yet, theres an emptiness…
one I’m afraid i cannot fill, and rely on you to.
its like standing in an ocean of chaos, of excitement and watching it from afar at the same time.
i can see myself swimming with the sharks, yet i am a bystander
as the thread of my life is strung tautly,
i watch myself bleed, gruesomely torn to pieces
i watch as the water darkens from spilt wine,
the wine that was once salty becomes sickly sweet around me
but i continue watching myself become bones stuck in their teeth.
its like being in an aquarium, encased in water,
and yet, still not a part of it, a distance, yet, a proximity
i watch myself drown through the looking glass, unable to help.
the sign says don’t tap the glass, but i pound and pound.
I am the only one watching myself slowly slow, and slowly stop.
stop breathing, stop fighting.
love is holding your breath, being cautious, yet careless.
Its diving recklessly, unsure whether to be sober, or drunk,
and being both.
its like seeing myself on a high diving board, the water beneath is so deep,
it seems to never start, and never end at the same time.
I can see myself, on the edge peering over,
scared to take a leap of faith,
yet relived i can still feel the sharp breaths,
nervous stomach,
because it means i can still feel, i am still capable of human emotions
i thought had left me long ago, before you.

eyes
her eyes were like the sky
bright by day
and hollow by night
even on her brightest day
you might still see the moon
the mother of the night
in her large dark ocean orbs
and her darkest night
always has a glimmer of hope
like the stars that dot the sky
but those stars have been going out
one by one
and her days have shortened and crumbled slowly
her sun is burning out
and her eyes, those windows that look like they are being constantly hit with relentless rain
and I just want to hold her
and close those sorry eyes
for an eternal peaceful slumber

your mom’s Honda

my thighs stick to one another
as you stick to me
the AC in your car imitates the moans we make
the windows that look like we just got out of a shower

it’s already hot enough in the backseat of your mom’s Honda
as we hold each other
my forehead against your chest
as the heat makes us lazy with lust

your chest expands and deflates
and i can hear your heartbeat slow to a normal rate
but after I’m sure you’re asleep
i gently get out of your arms, untangling myself

I want to be more than just your late night call
or your fuckbuddy
just another one of your girls you take into your mom’s Honda
and treat her like a queen the night of, and trash the next morning

this woman doesn’t want to sleep on uncomfortable and chunky seats
this woman deserves a man, not a boy
this woman deserves someone who treats her right
this woman wants someone who is not afraid to be loyal

and since you can’t provide that,
this woman is leaving
locking the door behind me
and opening the side of your mom’s Honda

the oil filler cap clicks between my fingers
and as i throw the cap behind me
my other hand flicking open a lighter, I ignite it with my anger
and I watch the skeleton of your car blaze with the sparks we felt

and that was the end of you and your mom’s Honda