i long for days with everlasting horizons
so blue, yellow, and pink
how the colors fold together
into
an eternal simplicity
these days i will hold back my head
look into the sun
and let my soul
free

i torment myself for my inability to love,
my inability to sense the light after the storm.
i spend my days wondering when,
when will i give myself to another
when will the world be ready?

i love you con todo my heart
te amo with all my voice
te amo como my favorite song
otra vez and again y otra vez
my love for you es como un garden
growing and growing and growing
mi amor is like el mar
deep and beautiful and wild
my love is un poquito como este poema
broken in pedacitos of spanish and inglés
te amo with all mi corazón
i love you con todo my heart

I want to be left alone
                                                           ­     I don't want to feel alone
I want someone to hug me.
                                                             ­   I hate being touched.
I want to tell someone.
                                                        ­        People scare me.
I want to speak.
                                                          ­      I can't open up.
I want comfort.
                                                        ­        I push people away.
"I'll be fine."
                                                          ­      "No you won't."
"But I will."
                                                          ­      "What if something happens?"
"No, it'll be okay."
                                                          ­      "But now you're doubting yourself."
"NO."
                                                ­                "Oh come on. I'm a friend."
"You cause so many problems for us."
                                                            ­    "There's nothing you can do now."
"Don't do this."
                                                          ­      "It's too late, I've won."

You can't love a poet.
Even though, you feel flattered by my witty one liners,
And my charming stanzas, you can't love a poet.
I will write the good and the bad and you won't like it.
You won't like my version of the fight
And you'll like my metaphors even less.
It will drive you crazy and you will tell your friends,
"She's obsessed".
I can't help the memories that stick like glue, imprinted on my brain
And I can't stop feeling the words exchanged 3 Sunday's ago that you forgot as soon as they left your mouth.
I will relive and reread until the end of my days and inevitably you will leave,
because you can't love a poet.
You can't love someone who will publish your intimacy and print your passion.

I saw it in her eyes
She was going to leave
*But she didn’t know it yet

Baby if you call me at 4 am,
Too sad to even say hello,
I will listen to your sadness,
Until you fall asleep.

Mary had a little lamb,
two lobsters and a Christmas ham,
a three-pound tub of chicken wings,
seven bratwurst tied with strings,
thirteen loaves of garlic bread,
a schnitzel bigger than her head,
four rare steaks, a dozen eggs,
caviar and turkey's legs,
strips of bacon, mushroom stew,
chunks of bread and cheese fondue,
and two whole jars of sauerkraut,
(to clean all of her insides out).

Finishing the pasta salad,
Mary soon looked drawn and pallid.
"I don't feel well," poor Mary said.
"I think I need to rest my head."
Then from her stomach came a moan,
a straining, churning, twisted groan.
Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide.
She'd only seconds to decide.
What could she do? Where could she go?
Her stomach was about to blow!
So, reaching for the nearest bucket,
she retched, and then began to chuck it.

All the courses that she'd swallowed,
and the apertifs they'd followed,
all the steaks and all the fish,
each and every single dish
came flying back from in her belly,
filling up the bucket smelly
with a foul and toxic brew,
and no one knew quite what to do,
so this went on for ten whole minutes
till Mary had expelled her innards.
When she was done, her eyes were red,
and sweat was pouring from her head.

"Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?"
her mother asked. She didn't hear.
For Mary was already off -
the waiters saw her try to scoff
the whole entire pudding bar.
Now, this had pushed her mum too far.
"Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through!
I've done the best that I can do.
I'm sick and tired of all you eat.
I will not pay for all this meat.
I'm going home. Go get some help —"
Then Mary's mum let out a yelp!

She glanced down at her legs and saw
sweet Mary there begin to gnaw!
She struck the lass, but with great haste,
alas, the girl had reached her waist.
As Mary's ma was there devoured
by her offspring, overpowered,
she cried one thing ere final slaughter:
"It smells like lamb in here, my daughter."
Mary licked her lips and grinned.
She belched out loud and then broke wind.
She felt her tummy start to rumble -
and calmly ordered apple crumble.