Cuando yo dije "te amo"
I meant it.
Cuando tu dijiste "te amo"
You didnt.
Odio que me mientan.

Giving you up,
You belong to the world -

not with me.

the world keeps turning;
with each turn,
I
in turn
turn away from you
and your awfulness
your ways
your rejection of me.

you enjoyed stumbling
recklessly falling and breaking;
whatever remained of my love
- my awful, broken love.

with each sunset -
I see you - setting with it
being the darkness that is my discomfort
the pain that lingers on
eating bits of me.

you are clumsy -
a person of the world
- I
well, I
- a person of the boundaries
of the tortured soul
that clings on the sanity
that is, love

the world has you -
I have nothing - nothing
that is you.

- nothing of you;
******.
The world has you - not I.

Tell her I miss the mother that stole me from school
So we could get surprise Ice cream cones
Just me and her.
And tell her I miss her

Tell her I miss the mother that said my name just as much as my sisters
And asked about my day at school
And if I had anything to tell her,
And always claim to be the proudest mother.
Tell her I miss her

Tell her I remember exactly when she stopped being super man
Tell her I got older and I understand mistakes
Tell her I can forgive more than most can
But I’ll never understand
Why she gave up on me.
Why she loves me less,
Why she doesn’t care
About these holes in my chest.
But tell her that I miss her.

Tell her I remember when space was not an option
When she would tell me I could do whatever I wanted and she
Would be there.
That no one loved me as much no one cared like she cared.
And tell her that I miss her.

I want to write a poem
That will set you free from harm
I want to write a poem
That you can hold nicely in your arms
I want to write a poem
That has it's own personality
I want my poem to dance freely
On the edge of imagination and reality
I want it's softness to put you to sleep
I want it to hold you with it's warmth
I want it to entertain you with it's playfulness
I want it to be the readers friend

You claim that you're no poet,
That you lack the gift of words,
Yet your notes convey such meaning,
Leaving me filled with the gift of love,
So I respond forget the poetry,
Pretty phrases and simple rhymes,
Continue writing as you do,
As I will love you for the rest of time.

I'm wearied of wearying love, my friend,
  Of worry and strain and doubt;
Before we begin, let us view the end,
  And maybe I'll do without.
There's never the pang that was worth the tear,
  And toss in the night I won't--
So either you do or you don't, my dear,
  Either you do or you don't!

The table is ready, so lay your cards
  And if they should augur pain,
I'll tender you ever my kind regards
  And run for the fastest train.
I haven't the will to be spent and sad;
  My heart's to be gay and true--
Then either you don't or you do, my lad,
  Either you don't or you do!