No. Stop. Please. Don’t call me nice or strong or admirable. Because I’m not. I smile and laugh when you joke and tease me, but on the inside it hurts and shakes up my self esteem. You call me strong but that’s while you ignore the silent tears rolling down my cheeks. Admirable? Only because I know how ****** it feels to be on the receiving end if I were to act and speak the way my mind wanted to. I try to sit pretty, laugh and give witty comebacks, but I keep having to bite my lip and blink rapidly up at the ceiling so the tears don’t flood out. But do you see that? No. Because you’re scared of my breaking down. You don’t know how to react when someone who comes off as sturdy and laid back as I do falls apart. That’s how everyone reacts when I get shaken. They pretend not to see. People say whatever they wish to my face because they think I can take it and not be hurt by it. But it does hurt. Especially when you say bad things about people I love, especially when I’m already hurting over them. I wish people would just once watch my face when they decide to say those things about my family, friends or me. I wish people would just once see the pain that quivers in my eyes, or the tightening jaw and bleeding lips. I wish just once..someone would stop mid-sentence when they see me shaken, and just pull me in for a hug.

after love,
we change.
the confessed love: lies.
the promised future: lies.
but those aren’t lies
once we take off our shades
and look with clear-sighted eyes.
the love was true
and future clear;
there really was no flaw.
but things did go wrong
and love did fail,
and the hatred, too is real.
it would be an easy,
simple task to hate
had love been lies.
but it wasn’t;
confessions of love
and scowls of hate
were all there -
and all were true.

I was scared of the dark
and the monsters within.
I was scared of what would get me
when it was time to turn in.
I never liked to go outside
anytime past sunset;
why? It was dark out there
monsters everywhere, I’d bet.

But now I realize,
now I know
the monsters I fear -
outside, they won’t show
their faces, their grins
or their wrinkly, clawed toes.
Deep inside me they reside -  
my fears and my foes.

Now with my insides
darker than night,
Night doesn’t make me fearful -
It doesn’t give me fright.

Twilight seems delightful,
almost broad as daylight.
So now, dear darling,
here’s my plight:
I can no longer have you by my side -
for my inner demons will bite.

Y’know, when your thoughts are as dark as mine –
The night isn’t as scary
nor the monsters so creepy.

You become the scary night
and the monsters children fear.
You’re the ugly, crooked criminal
held back from all that you hold dear.
The night, to you, becomes bright
and all the nocturnal fright
will be your cause
and your plight.

hush, little darling,
hush those deadly thoughts.
don’t let that blade taste blood;
I warn you, it gets addicted.
breathe – in and out, love –
don’t forget that one small chore;
or you’ll get caught up
in dark, dreadful thoughts
and drown away for sure.
be careful, dear, think clear.
one rash choice will
**** a life many hold dear;
you’ll never know
which hands you would have held,
which hearts would have helped
you through it all.

you’ll make it through, darling,
I promise you – I do.

Maybe it’s because
it’s the end of the year
and we’re on the brink
of starting anew.

Maybe it’s because
this winter is exceptionally cold
and your hand’s not here
to warm mine up.

Maybe it’s because
I’m not proud of
the things I’ve done
and the ones who can forgive me
are already too far gone.

Maybe it’s because
the good memories,
come and gone,
are here no more
and this winter looks so bleak.

Maybe it’s because
nothing’s wrong, really -
it’s just my expectations
in my messed up little mind -
maybe it’s just me.

"Make yourself at home," I said.
and as I said, you did.
You made me home -
haven to you,
and your home, I did become.
You brought me life,
I gave you rest.
You provided excitement,
and found comfort in me.
I was your home,
and you, my resident
until the circumstances changed.
You up-and-outted;
moved right out
and left me here, behind.
Leaving unwanted objects -
useless things -
and a restless state of mind.
You left to choose a different home,
greater than my kind;
and left me here
with a sign: FOR SALE
empty and abandoned.

Here, I'll write you a letter,
all sweet and cliché,
folded in an envelope
and sealed with a kiss.

I'll tell you all about my self
and ask, with interest, of yours;
each thought and idea illustrated
with my doodles and notes.

I'll speak of fields with grasses green
and sparkling stars up high
that we could lay in and marvel at
if we were to fall in love.

I'll write down my daydreams
of a small apartment with you -
one pet, two kids,
you and I, aging together.

I'll put in a love poem,
with unique combinations
of twenty-six letters and more
to promise my eternity to you.

But at the end of the letter,
maybe you'll come to see
that I signed no name
nor written an address.

So there, that is the end
to our short love affair;
we'll leave it to one letter
to keep the perfection forever.

The daydream I created for us
in that one paper, front and back,
will remain our tiny little secret
and our perfect little world.

My collection of memories
mostly alone with you,
though so frequently opened,
never loses value.

But what I've noticed recently
of this album I hold dear
is that so much has been changing
now that you're not here.

Each time the cover's opened,
each time I feast my eyes,
something gets distorted
and one small detail dies.

I'm losing real reality,
and replacing it with my own -
it's frightening how much
my imagination's grown.

Our fights and anger
have been erased
to where only joy remains
to tell your grace.

My faults are highlighted,
more guilt inscribed
to my mistakes, and your
forgiveness of my lies.

You're ideal now, and perfect;
almost to where I can't
picture or reason as to how
you allowed me, with you, to stand.

Now you're just my celebrity,
someone to whom I can only be a fan;
I cannot ask you to stay by my side -
nor can I reach out to grab your hand.

So here's my fan letter to you
and my farewell;
though you will never read this,
nor of its receiver's name will I tell.

Your arm starts loosely
draped on my shoulders;
your hands travel
down my back.
Your fingers explore
the bottom seams of my shirt,
and I jump when their cold
discovers my skin.
Your long, thin explorers
leave icy trails up my back
as they pull me to you, closer.
One kiss slurs to another,
muffling my sobriety,
making me drunk -
and the night steals away
my conscience.

Memory fails me
once light seeps in,
and all that's left
is my self-pity.
I hate myself for falling again,
but despise myself more
for knowing -
every time you come around,
I will eagerly follow.

Science refers to love,
Ah - love,
As nothing more than chemicals.

So then I am just a chemical imbalance,
with my head against your doorway
as I call out to you through your door.

You are a thermal detonation
of a chemical explosive -
inviting me into your arms.

And we, you and I,
are nothing more than a chemical spill -
burning holes into your bedroom floor.

Inside me is a cold war,
too afraid to escalate;
hushed battles
thought but unspoken
leave halves of broken things -
your opposing half
unheard of, unmade.

Inside me is a novel,
unabridged and
maybe ten stories thick
of insults and hideous truths
leaking from my brain
going, to you, unnoticed -
my thoughts unheard, unsaid.

This pain that digs deep,
deep down inside –
it’s one squeeze of a lemon
and one pinch of salt
rubbed, no, massaged
in a raw, sore scar.

You are
a masochistic habit,
an addiction at that.
A shot of *****,
blades on wrists –
death request à la mode.

Look for me.
In the crowds that pass you through,
the dreams that scuttle by.
Look for the face only you can recall
The face that no longer exists.

The face in your memories
Will remain there, only.
It will never escape the tombs
That you let cave in.
The smile will be for you to see, only
Because it can no longer be formed.

It will only live in your memories –
The original has frozen, cold.
Outside of your memories,
It will never again be found.

Grief and loss have destroyed the smile;
Reality has hit.
The shelter you once formed to protect me
Receded and followed in your steps
as you ran away.

The smile that you used to protect
Was left behind and engulfed by the ashes
That blow in gusts in these dark alleys –
Hidden and concealed from view

But maybe if you really looked –
Scrutinized, I mean –
Maybe you’ll be able to see me.
Maybe you’ll see two small, round eyes
Blinking, staring, looking right at you.
Two small, round eyes
Hoping,
Wishing,
To escape the suffocating mask of darkness.

Look for me.

That’s the thing, darling.
I’m being quite frank
You have a tendency of making
My heart skip like stones across a bank.

You shrug my words off jokingly,
But listen to me, dear
Though you let it roll right by
My words aren’t insincere.

Day one, two, three,
Then one hundred may pass by
And who knows maybe each time
I may just shrug and sigh

My joking isn’t joking, really –
It’s merely masking fear;
That one day you might sense the frankness
And cease to let me near.

my darling, my love
my dear prince charming
how peaceful you look in your sleep
I come night after night
and dutifully stand at post,
protecting you in your deep slumber.

the soft little sighs that escape
as the plush clouds of sleep
float your little mind up
to a land far above the skies —
that’s enough for me,
enough compensation for my time.

I sit, stare, sigh
how delightful would it be
to have those beautiful eyes open,
and look straight into mine?
how heavenly would it be
to hear those soft, silken lips
murmur words of affection,
willingly, for me,
into my ears for the remainder of time?

but my prince, my sweetheart
you don’t know that I call you mine
you don’t know the restraint I place
to keep from getting out of line

I cannot let you know;
you would be startled and scared —
your peaceful visage would shatter,
your sleep will be filled with endless fear.
and this precious time I share with you,
I would have to say good-bye.

so long as you’re here,
sleeping safe and sound
so long as I can come say hello
to your peaceful, sleeping face,
as long as that lasts, my prince,
you will be mine.

No, I’m not going to tell you
How much I’ve fallen.
I’m not going to say
How little you had to try
To pry into my life,
The little fortress I reside in
How you just seeped in
In mere days’ time.

This is just infatuation,
No need to get flustered.
The words that are not meant for me
Shan’t make me stop and sigh.
No time to peer into a misty future
Molded by imagination’s crime.

No, I will not.
I won’t fall or tell you
How your voice lulls me to sleep at night,
The way it brings a soundtrack to my day.
You’ll never know how
In just six days’ time
You’ve tied me firmly to your side.

No, you won’t ever know.

you are…
the deep voice in my head,
drifting me to sleep.
the wind that flutters by,
caressing my cheek.
the streets I walk
and the sights I see
the peak of my strength,
my strong giving tree.

we gave and we took,
we broke and we grew.
intertwined then unlaced,
broken yet synchronized pace.
stitched then unraveled,
a sweater undone.
a work in progress, ruined,
the crawl of one who’d run.

I saw you in that split second
as you walked; you passed me by
and for that fraction
of that wonderful second,
a lifetime flashed in my eyes.

our eyes met —
your deep blue, my brown —
our hearts stopped
as time did too,
and your soul looked
straight into mine.

we saw a future,
a happy one:
the phone calls and dates
led to the rings
on white gloved fingers;
the years passed by
to the laughing children,
to their diplomas.
sons and daughters
left for lives of their own,
and you were left
as my only company.
lazy days were spent
chatting, reminiscing
to the days before —
before the hot flames
rose from hell and stole you
right from my grasp,
and left me all alone.

in that split fraction of a second,
we fell in love
and lived a lifetime
before our hearts resumed
as time did too,
and your soul looked
away from mine.

They say that
Black is not a color,
          it is the absence of.
Cold is not a foe of heat,
          it is the absence of.

Just like when I say
          Tu me manques —
          *You are absent from me.

I wonder if I knew you then,
I wonder how we met.
I wonder how we were torn apart —
How you exited my head.

I wonder if you knew me then,
I wonder how you saw me.
I wonder if you knew my gaze —
If you anxiously averted.

Did I gaze from afar?
Or no — did you?
Did we talk easy?
Or fantasize?
Did I make you out to be my groom
And you me, as your bride?

Were our childhood days
Filled with lives to come —
Were our existences
Exchanged?

I wonder if I know you now,
I wonder if we’ve met.
I wonder if we hate or love —
If our story’s written yet.

I wonder..
         If we
         know us.

our shoulders would rest
side by side –
nowhere to slide away,
just room to close in
and share body heat.

our arms would overlap
then uncross;
our feet and heads
would beat and bob
to a rhythm we’d share.

our fingers would jump –
they would poke
and would provoke;
grow closer
and intertwine.

we would share moments –
magical ones –
if only I had learned
this language of music
flowing through circles and lines
of black and white.

there’s a chill in the air
that seeps to the bone;
involuntary shudders
struggle to keep her warm.
the skinny paths paved
down her cheeks by tears
stiffen instantly
by the winds whistling by.
darkness engulfs her
and drags her in
as the streetlights flicker out;
small clouds of breath
hover dreary.

she’s a runaway
from life;
robbed of a home.
as her pedals slow down
and adrenaline calms
fear billows in,
smug and grim.
realization strikes hard,
knocks away shortened breath:
she’s nowhere to run to,
nowhere to hide.