I write stories in my mind—
illusions spun to keep the darkness
in my head at bay.
Stories of victory,
of rising,
of finally seeing.

I write poems that shred my soul,
words spilling raw from the wound.
Each line a whisper
to quiet the screaming child
that still lives in me.

I write songs that bloom with joy,
for others to sing,
to make me feel whole
if only for a moment.
Songs to hold the depression
just outside the door.

I write the words my heart exhales—
laced with pain
and bitter delight.
Each one a scream
disguised as verse,
so I can cry
without making a sound.

Over the years music has played an important role in my life.
When I was upset, I played music to cheer myself up.
When I was happy, music sat by my side and cheered with me.
When I was depressed, music wrapped its cozy arms around me and acted as a close friend.

My shoulder to lean on.
My words when I couldn’t think of anything to say.
The reason why I was strong when everything tried its hardest to make me weak.
The one thing that I will always welcome to soothe me.

The music that graces my ears is as diverse as the colors of a rainbow.
Each one has its own significant meaning
and is a beautiful site to see and feel.
The words of my favorite songs float
from my speakers,
to my ears,
and then to my soul.
I like the songs I like
and I love the songs that I love.

There are many genres of music.
And me being the unique individual that
I am,
I can’t stick to one genre.
if my ears and soul dig a song,
Why can’t I do the same?

The 511 songs on my phone are shuffled.
When I press play, rock music could start the show.
Queen, Fleetwood Mac, Aerosmith, The Eagles, or the Police, or Jimi Hendrix.
If I fast forward to the next song, rap might take the stage.
Tupac, Ice Cube, 3 6 Mafia, Bone Thugs N Harmony, Ludacris, TI, Lil Wayne, Drake, J.Cole.
Pop songs could pop out next.
Michael Jackson, The Weeknd, Sam Smith, Ariana Grande, Lizzo, Doja Cat, Lady Gaga.
R&B would want to follow.
New Edition, Adina Howard, Brandy, Erykah Badu, Aaliyah, TLC, Fantasia, Beyonce, Keyshia Cole, Amerie, Ashanti, Usher.
BTS, Blackpink, or Jay Park might conclude or continue the show.
As they always do.

Each song I jam to is distinctive.
I feel as though no one song is the same as the next.

My phone is the time capsule that contains the treasures to my ears.
I may start in the 1970s and travel to the 2000s.
Or I may start in the 2010s and go back to the 1990s.
Whichever song decides to play first, I will always listen to it like it’s my first time.

Mia J
3-14-2021

© 2021 Mia J

I’ve got
seven songs
on repeat.

They don’t ask me to talk.
They don’t tell me to cheer up.
They just play,
quietly,
loudly,
however I need them.

Vestige
whispers
like a ghost I once knew,
soft, aching—
it holds my breath in its careful hands
and never asks
why I’m fading.

Caramel drips down
slow and sweet,
like it knows my ribs
are tired of holding it all in.
It doesn’t try to fix me—
it just sits,
a quiet sadness
that understands.

When The Sun Sleeps
doesn’t sleep at all—
it screams,
loud, raw, honest.
It bleeds the things I buried
and somehow,
that noise feels more like home
than silence ever did.

Overflow crashes like a wave
right when I thought I was dry.
It drowns me—
but gently,
like rage that remembers
I’m still human.

To The Flowers
sounds like falling apart
and finally letting go.
It’s heavy,
but blooms in the dark,
grief growing
into something real.

Nero Forte fights for me
when I’m too tired to fight myself.
It’s chaos—pure,
relentless—
a storm I can scream into
and still
walk out of.

When It Rains
makes me feel fifteen and fragile,
but soft enough
to remind me
I’m not wrong
for feeling everything
too much.

These seven songs don’t save me.
They don’t have to.
They just stay—
and some nights,
that’s the only thing
that keeps me here.

you made me hate tickles
hated how you'd slid your fingers onto me and touch
and all I ever could do was laugh
hated how no-one noticed
how I was gasping for air
kicking you back hoping you'd stop

but no you continued
and you tickled me some more

my liver began to crumble
I wanted to scream " pls don't do it "
but there was no room for my words
none noticed the screams
they assumed it was just laughter

its not the tickles i hate
just  the fact that now when someone touches
I flinch every time
just the fact how hugs are enlisted as
injustice crimes in my mind

no, its not the tickles I hate
just the mnemonic memory that plays in my  brain
just the fact whenever its dark I somehow see your face
just that you robbed all of my innocence
with none of my consent

Exquisite nightingales songs
Soothe with the intimacies
            Of vineyards
      And Voluptuousness
          Of evening skies

           Midnights moons
               Candles roses
        With exotic poses
             Heavenly silhouettes
               In sweet repose

          Theres a Coolness
                of sweet warmths
           When her Beauty
                          and
              our Love sighs

Reynaldo Casison

The songs you once played, the songs you once heard,
each one still lingers in my mind. Whenever I hear them,
you come rushing back from the deepest corners of my heart!

Hope that bloomed in the darkness of the night,

Stay forever by my side,

Forever in my sight,

Let me be your guide.


See the universe shine,

I see the starlight in your eye.

You bloomed from the abyss,

Climbing walls that reach to the sky.


When the darkness blinds my sight,

I will find your scent in the night.

If i were to slumber forever more,

Tell me you wont leave my world.


Stay forever by my side,

My hope that bloomed in the night.

Stay forever my light,

My clematis by night.


If the world should play in reverse,

You were my god,

My UniverseUniverseUniverse.


Withered hopes,

Threaded by breaking ropes.

Can’t you stay here by my side?

You were my “forever” guide.