Lyan Cordova

Lyan Cordova Aug 2014

Funeral

When I die, at my funeral,
I wasn’t them to know nothing of me.
Not because I was awkward and didn’t share things about myself of anything short of depressing.

Simply because I’d prefer to stay anonymous among the world.

Let the teens have *** in the back closet.
Let the children run around screaming and causing havoc,
distracting them from my drunk uncle.

Let them wonder who Joshua Flores was.
Let them wonder who Lyan Cordova is.

Lyan Cordova Aug 2014

Midnight City

Thousands of people,
All in a rush to go nowhere
Here lies the woman who you'll fall in love with, and the woman who will give you the clap.
The man who will be your best man in your wedding, and the man who will rob you over some pocket change.
The kid who you gave that dollar to that becomes the next Jimmy Hendrix, and the kid who will use that dollar to buy some speed.
The city never sleeps and the lights never die.
Where the people live it to the limit and love it a lot.
And they'll die, not knowing who brushed by them at the daily subway stop.
Today, a couple will become engaged.
A man will get kicked out of a bar the day he gets fired.
A new life will become a part of the world.
And, a man will die
All by the time that you go out and buy a coffee from the Indian man who's name you can barley pronounce.

Aug 2014

lil' lolita

feeling nothing

the way she hides behind her glass of wine,
that smile as bright as she makes the world seem.
she loves me,
i love her

but i was blinded by her play pretend,
getting lost with me under the sheets,
bumping knees, lips against freckled skin
getting lost in herself as she gets lost in me.
and i can't be the atlas to guide her.
With my own map, I cannot find her

tracing the skin between her knuckles,
the mole on her breast, her legs around me,
knocking over the glass of wine next to her unfinished sketches
I miss the way she made the world feel bigger than it is,
the world she wanted no part of
and like that, she was the ocean and I was the sand
and she drifted towards the moon

leaving on her own journey,
after hiding behind that glass of wine,
tears on her sketchbook,
replacing her sketches onto her veins.
As long as she's feeling nothing.

how great would it feel to feel nothing, too.

#love #suicide

— The End —