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Fay Castro Dec 2018
I remembered the day I cried as I wrote. Good will, and love.
I left the last pieces of what would have been my love for you on those pages.
To have been replaced with simple friendship.

The night I sealed the letter I heard from a friend
All the horrendous, hurtful things you’ve said.
The misguided pain and the refusal to understand.
But I get it. You always were selfish about your feelings.

The day you gave the letter back I remembered
How you scorned your best friend for looking out for me
How you told me I could control my feelings
And that I should have given up my happiness for you.

How many times have I done exactly that?

You tell me I can tell you anything and yet you tell me to begone when I try

I look back at every single girl you’ve ever called a ***** because she rejected you, or that she wouldn’t let you **** her.

I really didn’t know you. And I ignored the signs.

And it took me so many drinks and so many cuts to realise.... But now I see you never loved me.

I was a toy to you. A prize. I was there to help you fluff your feather pillows and I was an *** you could grab at any time.

If you loved me, you would have understood.

I lost my self worth to you and you were selfish enough to never give it back. Humiliated and destroyed. Alone and afraid.

Didn’t you say you wanted me to feel the same pain you did? Maim me and destroy what you once held so dearly? If you knew me at all. You would know I already did. But you were too selfish to care.

Congratulations.

I hope you’re proud of your victory.

Go and tell your friends about this now.
I’m tired of defending myself to you in my head. I’m tired of hearing your voice in my head
I’m tired of caring what you think
But I can’t stop and you wouldn’t let me talk.

Your poetry’s gotten better. Glad I could ******* help.
Ara Feb 2017
I am but a rose of beginning green,*
imprisoned to darkness all day,
within a monumental fiend,
who covers up the radiance that I want to give away

Occasionally a small opening would be sewn
into the darkness' fiery grasp
and your pure radiance could be shown
concealed in a kindhearted mask

Share your light with me
and for you I will light the way
wrapped in an unfamiliar livery
prepared for our intimacy till the end of our days

We will cross waters on a homebound stretch
and become fuel for our endurance,
so beautifully etched

I'll take my chances, following the sun
the garden we grow
means that together, we are one

Share your light with me,
and forever I will stay.
my petals can become your livery
we need each other, I daresay.
This poem was written for a class, and I will be turning it in soon. Tips/Comments/Suggestions are greatly appreciated!
Fay Castro Dec 2016
It's a hot day.
in mid-december.
What the **** is this.

I expected cold
That's what I came to Taiwan for.
i guess the world had other plans.
******* hell.

What am i doing?

I'm watching the old ladies run about
with the old men
Strings of coral and jade
around their frail wrists
And pocketfuls of money
i will probably never see

There's another old lady
carrying boxes of food
selling lunch to the loud jewellery sellers.
she's seen better days,
But she looks happy.
at least i hope she is.

The chestnut girl isn't here today.
i hope she is, though.
she's cheery all the time.
i need a bit of cheer in my life.

My parents have left me alone.
how the hell do i run this booth
i hope nobody comes to ask me for anything
even if i should hope they do.
we haven't made anything in weeks.

The jade market is loud
and the smell of sandalwood incense and rotting nails lingers
like when i accidentally cook too much pork
with an inadequate amount of onions and salt
and the smell assaults my apartment.

I wish you were here.
you would love the chaos.
I miss you. And the jade market is pretty okay.
Fay Castro Nov 2016
Four hours
Before I have to leave.
I remember your lips,
Planting kiss after parting kiss
On mine.

Two hours
Before I have to leave.
I remember your hands
Holding mine, but slowly letting go
As I pass through the boarding gate.

Thirty minutes
Before I have to leave.
I remember every single moment,
Every laugh, every "I love you",
Turning into a fading, yet fresh
Wisp of memory.

Thirty seconds
Before I have to leave.
I remember you  

Don't worry, my love.
I'll let you know when I'm on the other side.
I love you.
I wrote this in the airport at the start of my vacation.  It's somehow fitting I post this at the end of it.
Fay Castro Oct 2016
I went to a flea market today
And between the stalls peddling jade
Antique swords
And old Japanese plastic toys,
I found a box of photographs
Forgotten by time

I picked up the photographs one by one
And in each of them I saw countless stories.
1940's Taiwan.
1920's Japan.
A couple.
A group of men.
A rice field.

I watched the smiling faces and the wide, vacant grins and wondered,
'Who are they?
'Where did they go?
'Who did they go home to?
'Where are they now?'

I looked at the photographs and saw us.
Happy. Content.
Unfettered by the passage of time.
Unaware that one day, we'll be nothing, or everything.
Uncaring about how short and how eternally slow life can be.

I look at us and wonder,
'Will anyone remember us, fifty years from now?
'Will anyone care what happened to us?
'Will we simply be, sixty years from now, old photographs in box in a ***** flea market?'
I found no answers to my questions.
I doubt I ever will.



I went to a flea market today.
But that's all in the past now.




I put the photographs back in the box.
I'm feeling very sentimental.
Fay Castro Sep 2016
Lorenzo

The name spills from my lips,
Like wine-
And stains my hands.

LoRENzo

A brand on my chest.
A tattoo on my neck-
Where his tongue traced constellations.

Lo-ren-zo

The name lingers in my blood
Like a narcotic
And in the air
Like ***.

I'm hooked.

Addicted.

Lorenzo.

Lorenzo.

Lorenzo.
First, and hopefully not the last.

— The End —