Holding back tears with a straining smile
I speechlessly waved goodbye.
And now i think of you hopelessly
learning a thirst that cannot be quenched
a craving that eats you away like a venom.
As i type out this poem late at night
i begin to realize
There are pain in the world that leaves you helpless
and in that helplessness, I learn love in its full force.

The clouds poured that day
When my mother took me in the church
I kneeled in front of a porcelain Mary
Who glared down in righteousness
So full of herself, i thought.

She should be a figure of strength
A warrior even, made by her virginal status
But you are still porcelain, I snarled
A slight push
And to pieces you go.

In the fear of the Divine
I confessed my sins
Her smile still cold and smirk like
Laughing ay my earthly worries
Dismissing my lonely sorrow.

I looked up again in pain and anger
Smothered by fear and angst
To be met with my mother’s face
Who stood in porcelain
Looking down in righteousness.

I would have thought vomits
Stroking your face
Telling you I love you
Kissing the arch of your nose
The smile that I know so familiar
You called me a silly drunk
And under the street light I laughed
Oh my friend
I was never drunk.

I've seen the universe through a telescope
all the vast, grasping so little purpose.
But next to you
watching the rise and fall of your chest
as you're sound asleep next to me
I felt the meaning of universe
trapped in the breathe of your lungs.

The rose will die tomorrow
when the winter frost finally catches on

but today the fall sun still shines

Their lips touched in the autumn air,
under the tree he had always loved.
his hair tickled his chin,
they both giggled,
what a sin.
if this is sin, so be it
love, burst, explosions that I will die for.
their hands tangled with such scandal
the roman air smelled nice
they saw their graves
but nothing came with more worth
than the ritual of love.

The feelings of new sheets
and freshly shaven legs
The smell of the ocean
in a toasty summer air
The grin of someone you passed by
a shared joy among strangers
Find those little things
that make you happy
until it becomes a habit

I want to thank you
faceless, nameless reader
for your kindness of sparing a second
reading an awkward soul's mundane poems.
Like screaming into a void with echoes.

you don't know me
but you lift the burden of my stress
so thank you
I hope warmth and kindness find you always
for a simple act of sparing a second to read my poem.

45 seconds of peace
I opened my eyes
my hair afloat, and my toes kicking through the water
the ocean consumes me.
45 seconds of waves
crashing on my vessel
I am cleansed
I am new

It was so overwhelming
the swirls of orange around me
A subtle dreamy orange like the sunset
So safe
So light
I waved my finger for more swirls of orange
my fingers wiping the sky as the night turns bluer
the sky became this deep ocean blue
My fingers drew points on the sky where I want to go
with each point a sparkle
then the sky...it lit up for me.

The Universe smiled when you were born
She told the Whales of a gentle child
who was born to make the world better
she sang to the birds
of a soul so kind and funny
she almost wish she could take credit in creating you

Now you sit in a cubicle
working your dreams away for other people's luxury.
The walls felt caved in, but it never crushes you
You can't work if you are dead.
the ceiling of a blinding white light
Small talks that leave you emptier than before

But you did not disappoint The Universe
She understands
She may sign and look away
but in the smallest kindest of your actions
she writes a new fate for you
a path sealed by the cosmos.

I suddenly got so sick
so sick of the colors around me
like every person was a vibrant soul
and I am just grey
I am so sick

I got so tired
trying to paint color on everyday
So very faded at the end
Too grey
I cut my skin to force that red

but when I stood under the shower
I am grey
I felt so sick
of being washed over--feeling no renew
no one wants to mix with grey

and then I turned a pitch black.

Goodness,
you look happy
I can see your happiness.
And boy,
she is pretty.

Her brown hair is shorter than mine,
curlier too.
Oh! She wears glasses!
How confidently she wore them.
Yes, light eyes does look good with everything.

I see you cherishing her
holding her in your palm
like a tiny pearl

I am happy for you,
if i wasnt I'd be selfish.
But that was the day,
happiness became more than a word.
It became my nightmare.

I want to be the It Girl
the girl who laughs so loud
but no one seems to mind
I don't envy her beauty
but she is beautiful
in a way that she knows

I want to live life like It Girl.
Taking up space whenever
talking to whoever
no fear, no need to hide
It girl thrives in the light

And I sit alone in my comforting darkness today
Dreaming about being It girl.
Maybe tomorrow, I will try again.

There is a spot in my heart
for little children
their laughs
such pureness that I miss

you forget what its like to be truly happy
until a child's smile comes beaming
and you cant remember
the last time you've laughed like that

Sometimes i get a glance
in the mirror when the lights are low
my brows furrowed,
my breathing slow.
I get a glance of you.

It scares me terribly,
to get a glance of you.
I am but the apple,
who rots below the tree.

My hands tangled with yours
6:30 am i spring open my eyes
to catch your groggy eyes
the little snore you do,
the twitch of your face.
The way your hair curled upwards
I never was an early bird
unti l had a good reason to be
much like a traveller
who wakes up early, to catch the sun rise.

girl with moonshine in  her eyes
she danced around wildly
letting the wind catch her feet

She kissed him softly
whispering sweet nothing
in his ears, courage from alcohol

she got out of his car
drunkenly happy
no there were no promise made

she walked into her room
crying her make up off
on her desk, an unopened bottle of moonshine.

When the sun hits your hair
I see how it makes heads turn
like little rays of sunshine
dancing in your golden blonde hair
I sit at night
staring at the moon
and im not even the night sky
im your shadow
waiting to be picked second
because everyone wants the Sun

I hold your hand
from birth to death
pretty poems are often about heartaches
the day I lose you,
will be the day I write the most beautiful poem.

I want so little from life
but I want so much
HURRY! FASTER! MORE!
like work is a reward, and sleep punishes the soul.
I wanted so little
and yet somehow
That is all I am now.

the bitter coffee taste consumes
yet another tired hallow shell
the morning light has no appeal
plain beauty ignored by heavy feet

its alright-
just survive.
There is no need to worry about living
there is no urgency in observing every beauty
Suriving is an art too.

Yellow brick road
my little unknown redhead
you have traveled so far!
Are you not tired? Does your feet not ache?
But oh little redhead,
don't pause for anyone.
When your feet feel sore
when storms knock you down
you are
indeed
still
standing.

I watch you grew from nothing
to everything.
My little bean's first step
the steady heart beat that grew into marching shoes
I watched my bean put on his uniform
a little picture of me he carried in his pocket
The tiny hands that once reached for me
Are now holding onto a barrel, squeezing a trigger
I used to sit by the window
watching my bean hop off that yellow bus
shiny shoes and sun burnt cheeks
Now i sit by the window
men in uniforms holding your belongings
My little bean's face flashed in my mind like a thousand films
Those childish eyes and chubby cheeks are now for god to see
My bean will never come home to me.

The pretty brunette stood fearfully
in front of the television
a large symbol as the crowd riotted
the Symbol of hatred burning right through her skin

Her child, with his tiny fingers
pointed at the unfamiliar symbol
his innocence lingering in a silk string
"what is that?"
He does not understand yet, the ignorance of this world.

She turned off the TV
and as any mother would
she hugged her child tightly
whispering under her breathe
"America."

I used to reach up,
and let the stars melt in my hands.
I felt the time slip away
but the night was too attractive to shut my eyes.
There are stories in the sky
mapped with pattern
the same stories people saw 5000 years ago
I reached up and melt with the stars
Now I can see the stars anytime, everywhere.
I close my eyes, and reach up.

4:00am, I cried harder than I ever have
your happiness says she misses you
and I watched mine slip away.
I let my sadness spill onto a piece of paper
my blood took on the shape of words
5:30am, I let the ocean waves wash over me
wash over every place you touched
Its alright,
if she is your happiness.
My love is just enough
to let my happiness run freely to his own.

I swim in a small pond
and there I find comfort
they tell me that I can only grow
as big as the pond I live in

but what is wrong with being small?
I like the small pond I swim in
for I know I wont grow if I go
I will drown.

Its alright if nothing goes your way
the tears in which you chose to conceal

Its even better if everything goes your way
the happiness in which you have no one to share with

But its going to be alright
aloneness isn't  the same as loneliness

and until you find the wothy someone
don't be afraid of being alone

you are your best company

people forget
it is a privilege to grow old

you make me never forget that.
Thank you
my love.

I used to write poems for you
like a hopelessly romantic, poor, scholar.
With such fluffy words i described you
the colors, the beauty, the pedestal i held you on
but colors turn dull, beauty fades, and the marbles that once
sculped the pedestal
turned into dust
Now i read my poems
and i scoff
my ink will never run dry
and so i wrote another one for you.

It wasn't personal
That's who i am
a holly golightly
terrified- of cages, of commitment, of things that held up a mirror
things that reminded me how ugly i can be
Holly Golightly had her tiffanys
me? I had my 3:00am coffee and the 7 o clock train-
steams, rails, and I'm gone.

You are not your mother
marriages dont always end in broke glasses and yelling
You are not your father
children don't always hold you back and ruin your life
You are not your brother
love isn't always a game that tears you apart
You are not your best friend
people can be kind and good in nature; in fact, they mostly are.
You are not anyone else except yourself
and you only
decides how your world will be like.
Evils can be found everywhere, but so can kindness.

Today, i found a picture of you
I cried
you were holding me as a baby
my mother standing behind you
the only complete family photo ive ever been in
you look just like me
the crooked smile, flat nose, hooded eyes
I will never know you
But i dont need to
Ive never wished heaven was real more than this moment
if any chance it is and youre smiling down
I want you to konw
mom has never said an ill word about you
thank you for being my father for a brief moment
I'm doing fine
and oh
i will never complain about my nose again
Its not ugly at all
it looks like yours.

I feel sorry for my mom
Not for the bitter lady she has become
but the little girl who dreamt of bigger

I so fear that I will feel a slight relief
leaving flower at her grave.

Oh you’re beautiful
The way you tailor your love
fitting me like a glove
The way you pull up my sleeves
Expose my scars, and kissed them.
Brown eyes honey
Soothing a ever lasting storm.

He walked to the lake
the frozen sheet of ice that glistened
I followed with so little hesitation
as if I knew he wouldn't let me fall through
But he would
Foolishly in love I am
so close to danger
the closer to danger I am
the further away I truly am.

I feel consumed by the thought
of dark colors rising up in my veins
like the woman lost in the yellow wallpaper
I lack the effort to lose my mind
until i go totally mad.

War is a terrible thing
at the whims of chess masters
who sacrifice pieces without care
pieces of flesh and blood
product of love and hope

War is a terrible thing
those who crave it
likely never felt the rage
of loss and grief
of pain and fear that stays long into the night.

War is a terrible thing
in the light of your enemy's eyes
behind the rage and behind the fire
is a fear of broken promises
of a place no one can return to.

War is a terrible thing
to evolve is to learn to be without it
and to live in a place where we can return.

What do you mean why?
They're wrong for hating us!
This is the country
of love, freedom, and liberty
of oppurunities, of life, of everything golden!
yes, there are children under fire in school
okay, maybe it isn't such an ideal world if you are a person of color
sure, it's still scary to go out at night as a woman
fine, we might have impossilbe high tuition rates.

but I dont hate America.
no, not at all.
I love America.
but i can understand why people do.
And thats why
I
will
vote.

I suppose she saw her fading youth
Like steam from a shower on the mirror
Slowly-little by little
But all at once covering your image
Time hasn’t touched her skin yet
But she could feel it in her eyes
When she gazed upon a young set
She saw the little enthusiasm she somehow lost
Laying slumped on her bedroom floor
She couldn’t even find tears
Empty pupils, unable to find her image again.

10 years ago, you werent going to make it
5 years ago, you never pictured youd be here
1 year ago, you were facing the hardest dilema of your life
2 weeks ago, you had the worst mental break down
1 day ago, you doubted yourself
but here you are
overcoming, defeating, conquering
you think you cant
because you dont remember the times that you could and did.
you think you failed
because you don't remember the simple task you succeeded in.
You are always overcoming.
Breath.
When you feel like you cant,
look back a little.
Remember that
you can,
and
you did.

i picked up a new book
to find myself writing along
tapping to the beat of someone else's life

if only i could travel to the far west
where the mystery lived
to sing the songs of ancestors passing

i woke up in my dark bedroom
my thirst satisfied, my soul refreshed
the joys of reading.

my eyes welled up
the seas that you had a tame
to learn how to love me
me, a thunderstorm without the beauty
But when i closed my eyes
i saw the unvierse in our fingers
i saw without my eyes, but only a glimspe.
The rising sun of a new day fell on you,
i saw my happiness in the architecture of your soul.

When the lord put smoke in my lungs
I saw the world in 5 more colors
I begged the lord
do not let me drown
I danced wildly in my head
with music that only I could hear
every instrument so clearly
banging on the rhyme of my delusions
And so I pulled on my burnt skin
not knowing where the smoke came from
the lord, or my little world on fire

I can't explain to you my jealousy
of watching people laugh in a group
such genuine laugher i could cry

I can't remember having a purpose
of getting out of bed
to not cancel my plans last minute

This sounds painfully self-wallowing
but this is all I have
Until a better day comes.

I hold onto the darkness
like an old friend
sweet embrace of familiarity.

Shes like a sunflower!
He exclaimed
Then his eyes darkened
"wanna see me rot her roots?"

In her very last breathe,
she looked over at him.
He seemed so frail now, shivering from sadness
She blinked, and suddenly her wrinkly hand turned smooth again
she is 18, he is 19.
He held her hand, the one that had anti-depressants clunched in her fist
He made the promises of marriage, of children,
of the career she wanted, of sending their children off
he made the promise of strength, of love, of light.
Finally, he made the promise of a love that is constant.
She let go of the clunched fist, and sobbed towards the future she longed for. She saw it all in his eyes, every wrinkle they'd grow.
She blinked again, and the wrinkles were all there.
With her tiny hands she stroked his tears away
as he once did to hers
and she stared straight into his eyes
their life frame by frame
"you never did break your promise."
Her last words.

Like little marbles in a child's toy box
rolling around in forgotten shimmers.
A little glory that meant nothing-
that was our first kiss.
It's a perilously thin line
being in lust and being in love.