Read my mind
For all the right words I can’t seem to find
To tell you how I feel inside.
Know my thoughts
For they seem to be caught
And to get them out I have fought.
Gaze into my eyes
And look past the disguise.
All the walls and all the lies.
Feel my pain
So you can know the strain
And the amount of life that it drains.
Touch the scars
That I put on my arms
And how I wished to hide behind the stars.
See my tears
That reveal my fears
Of losing everything I hold dear.
Look at my soul
Blackened like coal
And, like my heart, has a bleeding hole.
I’ve shown you me.
All there is to see,
And now you hold the key
To give me hope
And help me cope.
Give me the life for which I *****.
Hold me close
And give me a dose
Of the love that I needed most.

The smallest flakes of hope
That shine like little stars
Are floating from the heavens.
As they land on my pale skin
They begin to melt away
Back into their liquid form.
I am so cold, but so are they.
How can they melt on me?
It's odd how such fragile crystals
Can create such a deadly storm.

She was in love
With old books.
She was in love with
The way they smelled
As she flipped the pages
And felt the air hit her face.
She was in love with
The rough texture
Of the paper worn over time.
She was in love with
The yellowed tint of the pages
And the crumple of water spots.
She was in love with
The broken and tattered
Binding that crinkled
When you touched it.
But most of all,
She was in love with
The stories that not only
The words written in them held
But the stories behind each
Coffee stain and torn corner.
The idea that this book
Had connected with
So many other people
Enchanted her,
And she wondered if
Maybe she wasn't as
Strange and odd
As people told her.
And she thought that just
Maybe she wasn't as
Alone as she felt.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

If God let nature pick out its colors
I'm sure the sky would still choose blue
And the deepest depths of the ocean
Would want to stay that color too

If the mountains took to long to decide
Their peaks would turn a snowy white
And the stars in all of their glory
Would still relish the black of the night

The green, green grass of the valleys
Would not want it any other way
Just like the yellow of the morning sun
On any given day

And the leaves on the trees in the cool fall breeze
Would be any color that they like
At any given moment in time
Is when they would decide

If God let nature choose its own colors
I'm sure they would all stay the same
Because God knew what he was doing
When he created it on that special day

I saw Him standing right by my door.
I was expecting a "May I come in,"
Instead He said, "Let Me in!"
This time He didn't ask for permission, it was a command to let Him in;
but even so, right by the door,
He waited patiently for my response.
What a gentlemen.


Copyright© Cynthia Ulloa
All rights reserved.