Someone once said the poem I wrote was too general.
The description of my pain was not enough for them.
And now I wonder if they knew exactly what they were asking for.
Did they want to hear about the sound the vacuuming cleaner made as it broke my mother’s brittle ribs ?
Maybe the look on fathers face as he swung, or the taste of the tears of all his kids.
I wonder if he would have been satiated to hear me recall in detail
What it felt like to be molested for the first time before my life even hit double digits ?
Perhaps he’d like to hear how I was so desperate to tell, but scared of repercussions that I blamed it all on my own brother.
Could it be enough for me to spew confessions of using my abusive father for candy from a local bodega, because that was all he was ever really good for?
Maybe he’d like to hear a melody written about how suffocation feels at the hands of the one you beg of love from?
Does he wish to know that I haven given my body to the same man more times then I can count hoping to feign the intimacy he wants, but can never receive because the scales on the cells of his skin repulse me?

Mediocrity holds no pedestal, no place
On the body of the haven where my soul hides
Touch me with hesitation, but never doubt
Play symphonies of adoration upon my spine

Count your sheep,
and I will count my scars.
Pick shapes from your clouds,
as I do from my scabs.
Find comfort in your love,
I will find contempt for it instead.
Numb is not a word,
I am blessed enough to use anymore.
Flames lick and nibble me,
while I burn in my own emotions.
Pandora's box could compare not,
to the hurricane inside my soul.

Does thou not seek, a surreal love, unmatched by any poets calligraphy or ink?
A passion that should shame the dearest Romeo and name his sun, not but a fickle flame?
A journey in a seconds span, so bold that it has not yet been given name?
Unhindered, and unwanting of all but itself in every glory one could dream.
A love so catastrophically utopian, a kiss born of it could tear dear cupid from his wings?
Young and scorching, yet as wise and timeless as the story of the beautiful Anna belle Lee.
Does thou not seek, a surreal love, unmatched by any poets calligraphy and ink?

You ruined me, broke me to the core
Belittled every ounce of me and more
Yet, somewhere lying on the dew dripped floor
I found something I had always missed before

My worth, it lay amount the roots dirt stained
Unpolished and tattered, beaten and maimed
Hungry and tired from life's cruel game
Through the harshest of trials bearing my name

I stood taller then, then I had in years
Whispered quietly into gods keen ears
"Its been a while, please listen here"
"Judge him not, and hold him dear"

"He has shown me the path back to myself,
The journeys comfort need not matter much,
I wish only the same serenity for his soul."

Caged, naked, exposed
Windows barred, unforgiving
Soul, bare, disappointed
Exits, blocked, by truths.

In a reflection of your eyes,
In the tight lipped corner of your smile.
I love you for the specks of him,
That fell upon you when our world imploded
So very, very long ago.
It is atrocious to admit,
That I so long for your kiss,
Because you always seem to taste of him.
This bitter truth is what I offer,
For your taking or your leaving.
A heart that broken, barely beating,
But, oh so good at make believing.
I should apologize,
For when I close my eyes,
I have no other choice but to concede.
Your lips meet mine,
and for a while,
I can relive him loving me.