Lauramihaela Sep 2017
You never gave me approval to water my roots with;
And it’s been two years and you wonder why
This plant is dying.

You handed me your love
But it was always on a silver tray,
Cold and at arms length
Where I could never reach it

Mother give me love
In my hand
So that I can feel it
Hold it
And Know how to distinguish its textures from others
(Mom I am giving my love to men who will never give it back to me
because I know not the texture of love)

Mother give me love in my hand
like fistful of raw earth
it does not have to be beautiful I promise
but it will be pure and true
and I’ll love you for it

mother give me love
so that we can nourish this relationship again
I miss the flowers that blossomed from these soils

Mother give me love please
So I can mould it into my hands
So that I may know
What self-love looks like
Lauramihaela Aug 2017
I write you into my poems at midnight
So that I never forget you;
I write you into my prayers at midnight
So that you never forget me.
Lauramihaela Aug 2017
I wrote a list
Of all the times
I have seen injustices
Being committed against women
In my life-
And the list was longer than the Bible.

I wrote a list
Of all the injustices
That had been committed
Against women around the world today-
And the list was longer than
All the words
From all the languages
They are silenced in
Lauramihaela Jul 2017
A woman bows her head
And says grace,
Thanking God for the food before her;

A homeless man outside bends over
And smokes a cigarette
With the waiter,
Thanking him for his company.

I think God
Is a relative concept,
Depending on who you're speaking to.
Lauramihaela Jul 2017
I don't know
If I find it more beautiful
That we can read different books
And feel the same way,
Or that we can reread the same book
At separate parts of our lives
And feel different.

I guess it's the same as loving people.
Love life books
Lauramihaela Jul 2017
I've started to think
That the answers are
At the end of the bottle-
The end of the box of tissues-
The end of your lingering kiss-
But because there are no ends
There will never be any answers,
Except maybe at the end of my pen's ink.
Lauramihaela Jun 2017
I am no flower
Only just blooming from a seed;
I am a tree, rooted in experience
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