there are some things i can’t write poetry about

the nights when i stare into my reflection
and don’t recognize the face i see

the times when i feel like i’m moving at a different pace than the world around me

the moments when i’m surrounded by people but i feel so alone

when my heart beats out of it’s cage and i think i might die any minute

when i feel so hopeless that i can’t help but throw my head against the nearest surface

when i sit down in the shower and let the water caress me in ways no other person ever has

i realized that i will die before my younger sister
how do i write a ******* poem about that

it’s my birthday in about a week and i didn’t think i’d make it this long
i don’t know if i’m happy or sad about it

so some things can’t be written beautifully
or i haven’t processed them enough to string them into stanzas yet
who knows

mother shelter
her roof caving in
the wind creeps through the cracks in her walls

father shepherd
his flock astray
all the stars in the sky could not convince them to return

Y yo me iré. Y se quedarán los pájaros cantando.
Y se quedará mi huerto con su verde árbol,
y con su pozo blanco.

Todas las tardes el cielo será azul y plácido,
y tocarán, como esta tarde están tocando,
las esquilas del campanario.

Se morirán aquellos que me amaron
y el pueblo se hará nuevo cada año;
y lejos del bullicio distinto, sordo, raro
del domingo cerrado,
del coche de las cinco, de las barcas del baño,
en el rincón oculto de mi huerto encalado,
entre la flor, mi espíritu errará callando.

Y yo me iré, y seré otro, sin hogar, sin árbol
verde, sin pozo blanco,
sin cielo azul y plácido...
Y se quedarán los pájaros cantando.

i block out your voice

it is nails on my chalkboard ears

when will i know
when to be ready
to say what’s on my mind

i whisper it into my own ears at night
i want to scream it from the roof

but my lips remain shut

i am a liar

do not tell me otherwise-
because i may have lied to you
i have lied to you
i will lie to you.

i am a liar

this tongue has never spoken words of value
only biting retorts hidden
by a convincing smile

i am a liar

these little white lies consume me
they turn me black
they burn

i am a liar

my heart screams
i do not want to lie any longer!
i can not stop

i am a liar

stay away
you will get burned
your heart will scream out
too

if this was a suicide note
i would say i’m sorry.
i’d fill the holes of my broken life
with flowery words on paper.

if this was a suicide note,
i would ask for forgiveness.
i’d beg that you wouldn’t think too hard
or be burdened by my passing.

if this was a suicide note,
i would spill all my secrets out-
like milk on a table.
i’d tell the truth
and i’d bare my soul that has long since gone.

if this was a suicide note,
i’d let you in.
like the children who long to return home once the sun has set,
i’d let you in.

but this is not.

so the holes stay empty,
the milk in its glass.
the children play on the streets in the sun.
and i am still here.