It has been four
whole months
since you’ve left,
your jacket
still hangs in my closet
and you still have a
draw full your stuff in
my dresser.

We never celebrated
valentines day - yet
I still think of you
and our misfortunes -
of our three year path
that lead to
heartbreak.

Often I break down
I sit on my
knees and pray
that you never meant
the things you said -
I keep your number
saved in my phone
with hearts and x’s and o’s
just in case you call me

which, you have
when you’re drunk or high
when you’re trying to remember
why you hate me -
why my world crumbles
when you’re around
I can’t see straight or
hear the words coming out your mouth
everything you do
for better or for worse
just sounds to me like
you saying

“i love you”

You came into my life
like a hunter
an his rifle.

You held me in your arms
and when I tried to run you
made me fight and
even when you knew I was right
you’d make sure I’d lose.

But I’ll swear on your bible
that next time you’re standing
on my porch in the pouring rain
I’ll scream at you -

“Don’t you dare
try and paint me black
when I
used to be pure gold.”

When you’re not around,
I can’t stop myself from imagining
our future.

A little brick house
with a white picket fence and
two kids running around -
playing in a tree house.

Your smile could be my
favourite thing to come home to -
going on drives to the beach
on summer nights
diving into the
ocean feeling nothing but
safety and security because
you’re by my side.

I would trust you
with our children,
let you place rings on
my finger and
take care of you
when you need it most -

you just
need to let me.

Light me up like a cigarette -
I’ll be the smoke you swallow in your lungs
and I’ll be the toxin that kills you
as you take your last breath.

we dance under the moonlight
until my mother
can forget the sin of
marrying my father.

The world watches you fall,
the largest proven oil reserves
but you couldn’t call out to your brothers
acknowledge your mistake
so that you may grow.

You **** children,
hunger grips every mother
and fathers struggle with
children of eight trying to earn a wage.

Your country is ****** up
holding it pride to its chest
waving the flag never admitting that
their force has killed eight thousand
or that their children are in hospitals
starving.

Kenyerber Aquino Merchán,
less than two starved to death
because hospitals have no formula
to feed the innocent.

Spine and rib cage protruding,
mourners with wildflowers from the hills,
and relatives cut out a pair
of cardboard wings from
empty white ration boxes.

Let you pass away,
sleeping now under my wings,
we’ll conger the wind
and ease the president's pride,
he is hiding under the cover
cowering the corner -
he has no one else to blame.

I have a sign on my chest
that says "trespassers
welcome."

It's written in red ink,
the cheap kind that never really dries
and with each new boy
that invites himself into my home,
the letters become smudged.

I try to remove the sign
but it remains there
etched into my skin
and the more I pull at my skin
the stronger the pain
in my chest grows.

Trespassers are only temporary
and I pray that one day
they will stop reading my body
as an open invitation but

until that day.
My chest
will be painted
​red.