Tag Archives: personal

burned blades

breathe in
sun’s heat beats down
flowers’ pollen floating through the air
dead wind
i lay on a bed of
burned grass blades
nowhere to go
nowhere to be
skin tingling with
wasted passion
yet eager to float
breathe in
let the earth fill my nostrils
and settle in my lungs
i lay on this bed
of burned glass blades
and let my mind drift
while my still body

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mama thinks

sometimes i wonder what
mama thinks
sometimes i wonder every night
does she miss the days
she would instruct me to sit
back straight
head high
in front of her so she could
delicately put my dark hair into a braid
i always hated
does she miss the days
i used to watch her cook with a smile
food i no longer tolerate
does she miss the days
i loved myself
like she loved me

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hot headed
just like
grandfather showed me
how fierce words could be
sharp and precise
swift and hurtful
he told me i had a gift
to use it wisely.
just like
grandfather taught me
the importance of self
never let them reduce you 
to their level
because, puth, you 
shine like your birthstone
next to these faded rocks.
just like
grandfather used to 
pat my cheeks, 
eyes bright with pride
i did not understand
never let them tell you
you can’t be what you want
to be, who you are
what you are.
grandfather saw it
as a weakness in me
shoulders straight
hold your jaw
twenty six years later
i never learned
how to pull
my heart off my sleeve
grandfather did say
i reminded him of

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got me in the mood

you’ve got me in the mood 
to cry, let these tears flow
without consequence
never good enough 
“come on baby. just like this.
i know you want to”
you’ve got me in the mood
to throw away everything
i’ve become 
never good enough
“why are you being so dramatic?
just live a little”
you’ve got me in the mood 
to lose myself
“baby who are you fooling?
you’ve never found yourself
in the first place”
you’ve got me in the mood
to believe everything
you believe of me. 

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never goodbye, just a smell ya later

when i was five
kindergarten kid 
you were my cool
amazing all star
stars in eyes
some called it
when i thirteen
fresh meat grade eight
you were my hot
popular, “hey have you
met my baby sis” 
my protector, my guidance.
concealed poorly
is my admiration,
respect i have
for you, my sister.
years continued and faded
suddenly no longer 
was i the baby sister
but an equal
you depended on me
let me carry you
when your five inch
stilettos busted
metaphorical or not,
let me wipe away pain
inflected by those who never
so i won’t shed tears
(or try not to)
because this isn’t goodbye
it never is.
it’s a 
“you better have a
grey goose martini ready.”
here’s to you,
my beautiful all star amazing 

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the people we love
the most
are flawed inconceivably
the most
yet we are blinded
by our love for them
we do not recognize
the pain they inflict
on our now toughened skin

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