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 Apr 2014 Raquel Martinez
how silly of me
to think that anyone would ever
choose a used truck
over a pristine new hybrid

i am too used and too broken
for anyone to even bother to repair
I was standing in front of my bureau when it hit me
That I need you,
but not like that.
I need you like a florist needs the fans of ballet dancers,
someone to come by and love him in winter.
I'm only noticing now that your voice is chocolate syrup with a scrap
of sandpaper thrown in,
with just enough of a drop of ****.
I need you like some people need bubble tea,
a pop inside of me that feels sweet and unexpected
and thought I've never tried it,
I'm sure it feels like your tongue working on mine
and the imprint of your cool lips
while I hurriedly kiss you at the crosswalk.
Do you know that when you go home
I still feel the ghosts of your arms around my waist
and the cover of your touch,
like wings on my arms?
I need you like a rock needs moss,
because I don't--
but picture the two separated, and tell me
what is the point?
And how inconvenient it is that these were not made together,
that they had to seek one another out,
and how fortunate it is
that they fused,
******* soft,
color on grey,
creating a pattern of earth, like the Earth
a cohesive package of everything,
all at once.
I need you like I need me.
That’s how long I will love you.
365 times 365 times 365,
the years fly with you.
Longing for the thoughts I have when I lie with you.
Thoughts of all the possibilities while the impossibles
are turned upside-down just from the way you look at me.
Stare into my eyes as I invade your soul.
Bodies become singular while on the quest for more.
more passion, more pleasure, more laughs, more of what’s next.
I promise to be worth all the time you invest.
Worth the past, worth the stress, worth all of the problems not addressed.
Such a beautiful promise,
absolute perfection to say, then I woke up
and realized our forever ended yesterday.
I want you to make me tap out while simultaneously hearing me beg for more.
I'd love to scream that every inch of me belongs to you because we both already know that it does.
Every. Inch. Yours.
I often wonder how much power I give you by sharing that information. By explaining that no one else knows what you know. Feels what you feel. Or touches me the only way I need to be touched.
It's a gift and a curse loving you the way I love you, wanting you in a way I can't yet have you, and fiending for you in the most unhealthiest of ways.
You've been the source of my insomnia lately but I enjoy the pain of not sleeping. I'd rather document the way you inhabit my mind at the oddest of hours.
Not as a reminder to myself,
but as a letter to your heart, constantly reassuring that you will never have to question what I felt.
The slightest thought of your touch makes me weak at the knees,
causing me to melt at the part of my body only you seem to master.
South of my belly button.
North of my thighs.
That's where you reside.
That's where I never want you to leave when you're inside.
Excuse my French and kiss my explicit lips as they quiver.

Thoughts like those seem too real
as wants and needs become orgasmically synonymous in my head.
I picture your body where this pillow lie instead.
Vivid imagery of you tracing my frame with yours.
The memories of what you'd do to my body in the past sparks present excitement.

So slowly I go...there. Into your territory.
Softly touching what belongs to you.
Gradually finding what you found each and every time we made love.
Passionately exploring the slippery place below see-level.
Vividly imagining that you're here tonight,
in me, going deeper and deep..
I inhale.

Your name escapes my lips
as an ****** escapes my..

I exhale.
Drifting into infantile sleep with the picture of you smirking imprinted on my brain.
That face you'd make when
you stared at me,
evaluating the aftermath of your ****** destruction, followed by
a nonchalant shift toward my ear,
only to whisper..

Come Again.
I remember the first day I truly saw his beauty. The first day I stepped into his world. It was just him and I. Together we were unbreakable. We lifted each other up and binded each other's deepest wounds.
         His eye pierced through my heart and saw me purely and truly for the person I no longer had to disguise. He couldn't speak, yet said so much. I could hear him. I was proud to be a person to hear such a silent voice that spoke so big.
        It was his eyes. A human being can only dream of having a voice this loud in complete and dead silence. Eyes; such a small feature on a creature who could stand so tall. Yet, they overpowered everything else. They spoke for what was true and could tell no wrong. A reflection of the heart and soul, it was.
        I could see it. His heart was bigger than any human beings. And it showed so clearly. If only man could have such a heart like his, then the world would become completely pure.
        He knew me. He knew me like no other person  will ever know me. Not a single word was spoken and everything would be understood as whole. The secret was silence. Because in silence, that's when most will ever be revealed.
        Its true, a person never sees the world differently until they step into another's shoes. But we were in each other's worlds. Two worlds collided into one. There was so much meaning, so much understanding. He knew what I could never say and I knew what was never heard. It's what made us so unique. A heart's cry could never be hidden because when eyes were met, everything was known. As either broken or whole, he saw every crack and bruise and every opened wound.
        He knew my tears. As one sees as broken, he saw shattered, crushed and scarred. My heart was clear to him as if it were cut out of my chest and held up to his face.
        I knew his tears. Never once seen by any other except for one. No tears ever fell from his eyes but his eyes reflected a crying heart. I saw his hurt. How can one disguise pain to be so beautiful, so majestic? I saw more than people knew. More than people will ever know. He saw in me what was never revealed to any opened mind. I saw more in him than what met any ordinary eye.  
        The stars used to dance over us. The moon, a cresent, would smile down at us. I remember the sparkle in his eyes and how it reflected a world beyond. I watched the million stars dance  in his eyes that night. He had that spark that could out shine even the brightest star in the sky. His heart was radiant. They reflected that twinkle his eyes owned so well.
      He saw me. His eyes would go deeper than any surface and we would be left looking for more. He spoke to me through eyes that spoke for a heart so true. He consumed me with acceptance and love that I've never felt so powerful and obvious with any human being in my life.
        Being around made me forget all the pain. At times he'd look at me and wonder why I was crying and I saw the pain his heart would hold. I was never alone. He was always there to wipe away tears that would hold such burdens. And in those moments, another stitch would be added onto a bleeding and broken heart.
        I was not the only one broken. He was broken too. He was once left behind, unloved, not accepted. He filled in the holes of what could be missing in a heart and I did the same for him. We lifted each other up and binded the blood of unseen and seen wounds, until there was no trace of scars.
        Two broken hearts healing. One is so hard to care for. A heart acts as if a child would. It needs to be fed love. All the nutrients that act for love, acceptance, want and protection. No one wants a broken heart. They hold such deadly and toxic burdens unseen by blinding eyes. Some cannot carry all the weight of troubles without support.  A heart needs to be pampered to avoid being abused.
        We were each other's support. He was healing and so was I. Our hearts connected to make each other stronger and unbroken. It may be impossible to read minds, but it is possible to read a heart, if taken the time to read in between the lines; between the cracks and scars.  And we did that without even trying. How rare is that?
        In a moment so perfect, one will always think of forever but they never hear the sound of reality knocking on their door. How deafening can death sound to the ear sometimes. It was there. Not even beside us, but in front of us. A person can be so blinded to what is beautiful and the closest thing to perfect because perfect is barely anywhere in this world. But when beauty is found, we cling onto it because in darkness, it could be the only thing that shines. But when light dims and fades, then what's there to do?
        The sun set early that night. The stars fell from the sky one by one and crashed all around me. I could hear them break like fragile glass cracking and breaking beneath my feet. The one sound that was unbearably deafening. I didn't dare to look at the disaster coming forth. Yet I could feel the edges of the stars hit me all around. Soon enough, I could feel the warm rush of blood leave my body nice and slowly as the stars tore me to pieces. Clouds would forever hide what was wished to be seen that night. After the thousandth one shattered into millions, there was no more left.  They disappeared, vanished; along with the spark I once saw in his eye. My brightest star began to dim right in front of me. He started to disappear. In amazement, I could only watch him fade into the air right in front of me. My hands wanted to reach out and grab everything that was leaving so quickly, but i stood there as if paralyzed in place. The wind was against me, holding everything we ever had in it's hands.  All in one, with a great deal of force it moved on. As if a massive hole disguised as a disintegrating heart, the wind carried through, leaving the emptiness i never desired to feel again. I watched his new set of wings while he took a first and last flight away from me for forever.  He carried all the moments, all the memories and a broken and healed heart. I could only pray he'd get the first heart fixed for me while he was away.
          Here's to the first year without seeing his face. Nothing has been the same ever since. It's true, no one will ever know me like I was once known before. Two different people can be created throughout a tragedy. In one's eyes, it can be a beautiful thing. In another's it can be a nightmare slowly transforming into a reality. Throughout it all, some can grow and be created for the worse and  some for the better.
         I can still see his wings. They are still just as beautiful as he once was. They're combined with all the stars from heaven itself. That shine his eyes held once, still shine but differently. He shines even brighter now that he's closer to the stars than I'll ever be. They still portray a heart and a life of pure and touching beauty. And I experience that every time the stars dance over me, pulling me back in time to when there was just him and I.
       His wings are jeweled with every star above while looking down at me. As they shine, it'll set a reminder that he's never far away. For whenever I'm missing him, I'll look up to the heavens for the stars to connect us again. I'll close my eyes and be carried through time and know it'll be okay. Because every night when the stars of his wings glow, I'll watch and think of him. But from now until we become alike, keep shining for me. Above and over me.
I saw it in the morning
I saw it in the noon
But never did I expect to see
Those evening eye-monsoons
Quick write... Feel free to look at some of my other poems. :)
I saw her there
and stood amazed

Her beauty pierced me soul
and could not cease

My only fear-
I cannot tell Birds from Bees
'Nother quick write. Writer's block dissappears and I reappear, though only for a short time.
If I wrote a million words to you
would you feel any better?

If I her just how I felt
would her tears be any wetter?

At 3am, birds beautiful song
would simply upset her.

Maybe I could write the words
to myself, find my consolation?

The trumpet played but never heard
will receive no affirmation...

To chip the paint that covers it
will only increase the oxidation!

Suppose I run without turn of cheek
and leave sorrow behind me

... but sorrow lives, and much like a dog
will follow, beg right beside me

Turn to the sky to see much more...
but the Sun will simply blind me.
Trouble with a love of mine... how can I fix what others have done?
I'd rather be

somebody's need
                       a desirable commodity.
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