for the first time, my level of pouring into someone is reciprocated if not more and I could not be more thankful for this.
I’ve stomached many bodies of loves: inconsistent like streams, limited like ponds and never more than half deep like rivers..
none of which have ever felt like an ocean. Sparks of love, made love, and one sided love. Where was that love of all loves?

now, I am surrounded by beautiful and limitless love, where the quantity of watering me is not govern by the weather of the day. My supply is never shortened. Never withheld. The amount of pouring is boundless, always unveiling like the depths of the ocean. Never yielding. I have reached it. True love. I am blessed to experience you.

‪it’s unfair to process your trauma while having your significant other tag along bc
they.
     will.
          drain. comes a time where you have to pick up on signs that they are fighting the urge to run but won’t out of commitment to you. ‬
‪but if you love them you have to free them‬.
even when it tears at your heart and you beat yourself ruthless for not being perfect.
you.
     must.
          set.
              them.
                        ­                    FREE.

i want to take it all slow. stay damnnn near still in this space of blossoming. to explore by step all that makes u. drag my fingers through your hobbies. pause to soothe your demons. stare and stare some more at your laughter. the colors that surround u. to be compassionate about mistakes and thumb over every sharp edge i find. to adore your human ways. the hard ways and the great ways. to cry at the direct way u ask for me, all of me, bc no one’s ever demanded each inch of me. my chest feels so full. my feet so grounded. my mind many more brighter like u waved away the clouds with every ‘why not great?’ to my ‘it’s okay’. i feel safe beside u. anywhere. im looked after not from obligation, from sincere appreciation for my presence in your life. u kiss me never just once. as insignificant to u this could be it makes my stomach flutter that u don’t get your fill off just one. when i speak i’m heard, and when i hesitate u lead. u take the time to heal where i need healing and be patient when i’m selfish and keep from being the same in return. u are someone that i will love no matter the future stones we stand on. there will not be anything higher than this. a bright patch in my night. the sun to this moon, in every literal way.

yet as the same way u are strong for me, u shoulder your darkness so your chest is free to comfort me, u beat your own struggles to death and trap them in a yuengling bottle. i am your silence when the sound of your doubts try to break u. i’m the night to your ever restless day. the lap to close your eyes in. i’ll take on the isolation when you’re tired. the cloud phases where u may try to push me away. and protect u as best i can.

i am not sad. i am tired. defeated repeatedly by my mirrors. i am just a pretty face. a good time. for a short time, not a long time.
cross my fingers.
not a long time.

crosslegged on a bed. i’ve caught myself capable of great thoughts in this position, but today it’s my place to heal. i can feel a pressure, almost like the fist of a hand against my lower chest... right where my rib cage ends and my vulnerable spot begins. where my emotions spread first. i tighten up in my attempt to best protect it. and breathe as my thoughts reach it. “a waste.”
a fear
a lie
i hear daily.  but no matter how it stings I’ll listen. so I can/it can heal. our darkest corners need comfort too.

'do you hear me?' 'this is the voice of an imperial past' 'the sound of horses, and the strong walk of men' 'do you feel me?' 'this is your cultural thrill, the smell of a powerful land' 'can you see me?'
...I want to protect the beauty in this world. The ones I've seen and the ones I have not. I want to stand a wall between the pure hearted and the hate. To preserve the magic that happens when, without labels being used, there's a silence when all is not lost and so much is to be looked forward to. To experience and know that I shall not be had. When looked at me, I will reflect all this world has offered me.

In life you live first and then learn.
And sometimes you learn again, bitterly.

so she drifted from him.
not because she wanted to
b/c her greatest enemy was becoming selfish
so she could no longer love the selfish man.

I'm a woman that questions God's existence. And I know that makes me sound Atheist, but when you've felt what I've felt at young there's nothing left in a child's mind but to question and doubt. Shrouded in dark you start to speak it's language. You start to learn the games it plays. I'm a woman that doubts strength and power outside my own. And I know that makes me sound conceited..but when you've brushed bottom, slammed down on it at times even, and manage to break surface yet again; you cannot say you'd credit any other power but your own. That you could undermind your own will to kick up and live again. All I've overcome was me, my refusal to bend knee. You will never find me thanking a questionable higher power, and not from dignity or pride or lack of manner. My ability and faith in myself should not be sold short. I'm a woman that question's God's existence, as I am today. But the day I'm face to face with my own child, I'll question how my own power alone created this and begin seeing Her outstretched hand.

"I am truly losing faith in humanity." This is the phrase that provokes so much frustration in me. Tell me how this does not hurt you just by being okay with speaking it or writing it. Are you not humanity, are you not of the same bones and flesh as me. Do you not battle through struggles and have the livest moments as me. Have we not mourn the same when we lose something precious or realized the hate that tries to consume our people? Are we not one race of people? Tell me how you do not sit in puzzlement having stated that you do not have faith in yourself. Do tragedies put out your flame so quick. Instead of rising to conquer change no matter the time or loses, you crumble. My sisters and brothers, I am Honduran but my love does not stop at my roots. My kindness does not only affect people of my own ethnicity or skin color. We're a human race and no I do not speak that we should be blind to our cultures and each other's beginnings. I speak that being so different does not mean we are not as well immensely similar. Recognize my skin, recognize my language, recognize my roots, my religion, my traditions, my scars. Recognize all of me. And LOVE me still to no end. These tragedies will not further prosper when you have faith that, with a race with this much diversity, we will find the solution and stop these hate-crimes that make some of us even ponder the thought of defeat. I have grown to learn that this is the change, seeing the enormous difference in each other but seeing all the similarities and having it urge us to close the gap with knowledge and understanding. This is our peace. Learning of one another. This is our hope.

We close our eyes and pray for world peace without any real idea as to what that is. Peace to everyone is different. That's why this world never sees it and our wishes and prayers never birth it. Love. We must pray for love. Love that which we experience from someone or something daily. Something we all can visualize the feeling to. Love is what will change this world because it does not matter our interests or our desires, love always remains the same.

I never really knew what kind of man could find my heart. I never really knew what kind of man could ****** my soul. Make me start to dream. What kind of dream they would have that would inspire me. Until I met him. An aspiring rapper. From Pennsylvania. Dominican and Puerto Rican. Four years. Long-distance. Music was not my calling, but it had awakened me. To writing. Lies had broken us. Nearly 2 years later I fell for the next one. An aspiring rapper. Producer. Jamaican. From Pennsylvania. Close three years. Complicated as ****. Music was there again. And although it was not my calling and it wasn't as important to me as it was to the fellas I fell for, it was there. Linking people to me.

I just always wanted you to ask about me. The more I waited it came to me how pointless it'd be to say. So I stopped waiting and praised you on your talent, it seemed the only outlet I found searching to charge my ego thinking I were useful. My praise in your dream became your dream inspiring me. You never noticed. I shed tears hearing your hopes transcend words parked beneath trees in your apartment lot. I hid them easily. You were so devoted to listening to yourself.  I wasn't much to hold your gaze unless I was tempting or cheering. The amazement in your eyes having had created made me lust after my dream deeper. I was truly thankful for it. But you never seemed to notice how moved you made me. My silence wasn't boredom, it was gratitude, for if ever in our moments I fell silent it was because I felt something vivid that seemed to always surprise me. I wanted to be more for you. Stretch my limbs and soul for you. The way when I closed my eyes it felt you had. The way it felt your lips pressed to my forehead, the small breath you'd let out as you began to smile down at me half asleep. The most living thing I've ever felt against my skin because it was real without me needing to see. Thank you for inspiring me, for forcing me to grow even a little, and for feeling like you were there for me even when I know you weren't.

I want to share something important. Imagine a great grand-mother. Wheelchair. Life's withers and cracks mark her skin. Eye's so wise it truly silences you when she speaks. Hair so fair and thin it's as if each time the wind rakes through it it takes another strand simply trying to prolong her essence to this earth. She's witnessing her great grand-child born. And it's utter joy. Happiness contained in such a small, fragile, portion. She got to live up to this birth moment.
But she knows.
She knows she won't reach to see it grown and to it's end. She absolutely loves and dwells in this moment. She holds that happiness to her chest as she begins to mourn.
Because she knows.
She won't see it to it's full potential, this happiness won't surpass it's temporary time. The possibilities are amazing but empty nonetheless because she won't reach to see. What could have yet become. Happiness turned to ambition, strength, a future, and real love. She has a heavy feeling in her heart like she's missed out on something.
A small existence so innocent, absolutely pure
And yet she knows
She knows that to not get to see it grow it's as if she hadn't even lived to see when that moment of birth first occurred.

it's been five years since I've felt absolute love. I can remember how I was with that person. so free. I didn't even know what restraining or containing was with them. I wonder when that changed? When did I begin to care about holding back, hiding, trying rather than being? when did I worry more about what came out of my mouth rather than listening? conversations and topics flowed easily, now I stress in forcing them. my first love was real love. but I miss it. the feeling. the ability to give and not realize I'm giving. countless hours talking about everything, fewer held in silence but nonetheless never awkward. when did that change?
maybe nothing has. I merely need to find a person once more. a person I care more for than I care about how I'm being seen. someone that makes me forget about myself, but reminds me of me when I do. because they care as much about my well being as I'd care for theirs.
I like reminiscing.

I want to write, story tell, create, and mold. Breathe life into pages. Force emotions in those that have not felt, bring tears to the heartless, and produce empowerment in the weak. When you think there's no words to describe it turn to my writing and praise me; call me a prophetess. As you lay awake in the silent hours of night and send questions to a higher power that you still question is there. As you despair in the pit you've found yourself in again..I hope that you don't need my words to soothe your soul, and in my absence discover the relief a pen and paper would do to a troubled girl.

insecurities. judgement. fear. shame. criticism. empathy
our imperfections are things we hide and exposed it feels like a great shame the world shouldn't need to see. secrets from our childhood, violations made against us, personality, our appearance.
let me see.
because the very thing that holds us back and makes us certain we are different from all the rest are the things that form bonds between us.
empathy and understanding. the ability to connect with someone else who had the same upbringing as you. the ability to connect with someone else that's unsure of themselves in a crowd. the ability to connect with someone else that doesn't like an artist everyone else loves. connect with the person with cakey make-up because they too have a bad case of acne. the girl that stays in her t-shirt while everyone else get's gawked at in their string bikinis. and larger. the kids that slept in the closet because a parent attacked the other. the little girl that thought her brother loved her but violated her. the one that does what they must to feed their kids, shelter them. the man in love with his friends woman. the young kids not ready for parenthood and visit a clinic. the life that believes they were the key to saving another, but didn't or couldn't. the doctor that made a mistake and cost a family a loved one. the boy that can't confront their religious parent about their sexuality. for the girl that had a fling and caught a sexually transmitted virus, and can't tell her mama. the ones that never have their fill because they sense eyes on their plate and weight.
ect. because the list goes on. all of it are chains that we form with strangers and friends. all of these insecurities, shames, imperfections are the reminder that we're all in this together.
we're human, and that's humanity.
I do not ask for you to reveal yourself to the world if you don't wish to. that was not my initial intention. what I ask is to remind yourself that what we hide is what another understands. so be open-minded and compassionate towards yourself because it'll ultimately lead to the bettering of our world.

plenty times we feel like life isn't worth taking part in unless you have someone to strengthen you. more times than even that is having someone but they show no interest in taking part in it. put yourself first
I know, we both know, that isn't new advice. We hear it plenty but what seems to enlighten us for the day doesn't impact the rest of our days. It' doesn't stick. I want it and need for it to stick. Not just for me but for everyone that seems to forget that in this world, that which faces so many social issues and seems to misguide us rather than lead us, you must believe in the one under the armor first before heading to battle. put yourself first
life is a curiosity and sharing it is wonderful. but do not limit yourself. share if it's possible but do not wilt because someone isn't watering you. evolve into something greater. something that surpasses the need for water. **put yourself first

have you ever come to the realization that life veered left so hard that you never noticed.
In one instant the clarity of what was and is appears so drastic, how you've come to change none but your solid is now transparent.
you catch glimpses of what was once there but not long enough to memorize it.
then suddenly your heart shifts and you don't know where to go.
because you don't trust the objects and people you see, knowing that just as quick as your solid they could start to dissappear.
faith becomes a word and love becomes absent.
just as strength and ignorance move in to replace them.
because you feel better not caring and feel secure not noticing.
In the end they're just feelings.
and you hope that it won't make you too different.

Watercolors spread across a plane.
The Red splattered across the Green.
Running together as soldiers pick up to leave.
The final stroke to a master piece.

The geometric pattern of the bodies slayed.
Fallin' to a specific shape.
As if by Hands they were precisely layed.
To resemble the fate at which we would all end.

                            .  .  .  .  .  .  .

A battle field is not the war I wish to address.
It is the war between Colors we face each day.
Stressed between individuals of a single shade.
The humor that when mixed together we become, all the same.

My tolerance has dropped to the point of no return.
I apologize if this is what you feared most.
But I've come to terms that I don't see and think like a basic person should.
I sit and stare around me like I've entered a whole new world.
Analyzing everyone around me and their reactions to one another.
I ponder.
Then wonder.
About the player of this game.
Is he winning or losing?
Because he just lost me.

Dreamers are the ones I envy.
People caught in the struggle, I wish to be.
That feeling to strive for something you truly believe in,
to become that image that so long you've fought for.
I won't deny that sometimes I cry.
Wishing that by some miracle that could be me.
Breaking down barriers that keep who I could be from me.
But that's a wasted wish on a ball of flames.
Dreams aren't forced, they're made..
But why every time I think of it,
I'm lead back to my bare walls.
I want to be that person known for their achievments,
stories told that since young I've been trying to catch more then I could hold.
Pushing back when the world tried to shut my faith out.
I want more than anything:
to be remembered as a dreamer.

We ourselves claim to know ourselves.
From top to bottom from the inside, out.
But to view our actions from an outside face,
is something that we'll never know.
Can't experiance it for our own.
It's a journey that comes to facts that who we thought was us, was maybe not.
So in the end who are we?
The person we say we are or the one that the world and society sees before them.

I laugh when you ignore me.
I giggle as you send me to voicemail.
I smile when you don't read my text.
Yet, I cry when you reply.
The more you show you care the deeper I get confused.
On whether having you is best or a waste of my pursue.
My dream had been to be independent, support my self all my own.
I've learned each step as I've grown but this is yet to be labeled unknown.
I rely too much on a male, that lately has only shown to define the word fail..
rather than love.
A four letter word that has so many meanings.
Yet, here you are without showing me one.

Sometimes I put my mind to work, and spin the start of a new tale.
One that's not obscured by lies and the whispers of lullabies.
Since young I've grown to be strong for those surrounding me.
Whether it included strangers or a person that simply pleaded for it.
I've had to build up just so that the weight wouldn't haul me down.
A pity the things we put our next generation through, expecting better.
Like the pounds of pressure we get for becoming something were not isn't enough.
I long to see the day where we come face to face that world peace is done.
We can hope all we want but happiness isn't coming taging along.
I long for the day that a tale of true life is made...
And we raise our kids prepared rather than blind.