day 14; untitled 10

god, it’s been so long.

so fucking long.

and i still haven’t gotten 

over the way you say hello.

i can’t even begin to imagine

how long it’s gonna take

until the memory of your goodbye’s

are as numb as me.

0 notes / 6 months ago

day 11; when he-

his knuckles are white,
the cerveza in his bottle has run dry,
he’s had a bad day, mind cloudy, limbs shaking
no, no that’s not it.
okay, so
he’s so high his bongs become telescopes,
he claims he can see God through them, 
but he’s mistaken straight white lines for halos
swallows another tab, no. that’s not it either.
but whatever reason, he sees his five-year old niece,
innocence written on the heels of her feet, he invites her
onto his lap, maybe by now the staining smell
of alcohol only reminds her of home, so the odor
of swallowed drinks gave her a sense of safety.
so when he- when he- when he
she is five years old.
a picture of naivety with a smile that
can make the moon feel ashamed. her house sits
father less, her only memory of him, a picture fraying at the edges,
lays against her mothers chest on the nights when her
body remembers all too well the feeling of his embrace.
her uncle is the first man to ever hold her hand, 
the first man to show her what family meant,
the first man to ever- to ever- to ever-
she is five years old.

studies have shown that the easiest time 
for your brain to learn is from ages 1-6.
her fingers have started counting
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
shapes have started making sense
square, circle, triangle
but there are still some things she doesn’t understand,
like the things her uncle asks from her 
1, 2, 3, square, circle, triangle, if your mother asks,
don’t tell her what we do, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, triangle, rectangle, 
this is because i love you, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, rectangle, pyramid,
oval, if someone asks you if you’ve ever been touched before,
tell them no, square, circle, 1, 2, 3, 
studies have shown that the easiest time for
your brain to learn is from ages 1-6.

studies have also shown that every 2 minutes, someone in
America is sexually assaulted, 44% of victim are under 18, 38%
are a family member, friend, or acquaintance,
and 97% of rapists will never spend a day in jail.

my best friend lives her life as a silent casualty,
a broken heart only held together by strings of hope,
and somedays i catch her blaming herself, asking herself
why she didn’t change her outfit, why she showed so much skin
that day, why she didn’t smile a little less, why the smell of his
breath didn’t save her, 

she was five years old.

i’ve tried to think up the means a man would have to feel
entitled to steal the light from her eyes, but there is no excuse
for the kidnapping of her youth when he- when he- when he-

his knuckles are white, the cerveza in his bottle has run dry,
mind cloudy, limbs shaking,
no, no that’s not it.

okay, so..

1 note / 6 months ago

day 10; harmony

you will never be able to convince me,
that the moon doesn’t hang there just for us
to hold hands and stare up at it
between stolen glances
at the way the light hits your
a symphony of crickets
playing in the back accompanied
by wind racing through your uncut grass,
i swear i can hear your smile.
i’ve memorized the sound of your
lips rising up,
the stars are coming out tonight darling,
just for us.

0 notes / 6 months ago

day 8; untitled 10 

I can’t accept affection
unti I’m sure that all
the scars & bruises have 
faded away..

Give me a few years,
I promise I’ll call you
back someday.
but for now, 
the nightmares still
come every night
and my hands still
shake when they’re held.

Give me a few years.
I promise I’ll call you.

0 notes / 6 months ago

day 6; fingerprints

just let it in
breathe it out
the world is waiting in you. 

i’ve been so accustomed to sitting in the shadows
that seeing the light that came with 
finally living to hear my own heart beating
has me trying to stop myself from squinting. 
you’ve never known true freedom
if you’ve never been locked up.
we are all born as jail cells, 
and only a few realize that the key to get out
has never been hanging around anyone
else’s neck.

there is no freedom in living life for someone else.

taking your first breath 
granted you the right to 
live unapologetically.
taking your first step
granted you the right to 
stomp your feet down on uncut grass,
and never let anyone stop you from 
making new paths. 

whether it was god that handcrafted it, 
or billions of years of evolution that it took
to perfect your crooked smile,
it’s still a miracle that you’re even here.
your fingerprints have never
belonged to anyone else, and
that in itself is more than enough
reason to feel the sun kiss your eyelashes
one more time,

that in itself is more than enough
reason to feel alive.

0 notes / 6 months ago

day 4; untitled 9

why is it that i begin to 
resent anyone who starts
to care about me.
what is so poisonous 
about a hug or a good
morning message,
what is it that i’m allergic
to all of my friends can’t
wait to get their hands on.
keep it away, i know how 
it all ends, i know every 
future argument that
sits dormant in your fist,
i won’t be the one to wake it.
you can save your affection
for someone else, because i
don’t need it. 
the truth is, i’m terrified of it.
terrified of anything vulnerability 
brings, so if you’d like to stay in my
life, pick up a rock and help
me keep building this wall,
convince me to keep people out
so i can keep happiness in.
i don’t need to hold his or her hand
as much as i need to hold my own.
i’ve only got me.
i’ve never felt more alone.

0 notes / 6 months ago

day 3; mold me

Hand on my bare thigh
Dig your nails in my cold skin
Turn me into clay
I want to be your masterpiece
A work of art discovered
Under the sheets.
Michelangelo sculpted with his hands
But sculpt me with your lips
Leave kisses on my neck in the outline
Of Donatello’s St. George
And don’t leave a piece of me untouched
Our private exhibit
Darling, mold me.

0 notes / 6 months ago

day 2; olive you

somedays i wonder how you’re doing without me
wonder if you’re still sleeping with your weird orange
pumpkin and pretending it’s me pressed up against
your chest,
wonder if you ever look at your phone around midnight
and remember the last time that we talked.
you told me a corny joke, because you always knew i loved them.
you brought the sunshine around at 6am when
my air conditioner was loud enough to muffle our voices
and if someone had pressed their ear against the door
they would’ve heard us saying
"olive you, olive you more, olive you more than more, olive you most.
olive you mostest toastest.”
and that was it.
the last night that we ever talked as lovers,
because the next day you laid your hands against her cheek,
and your fingerprints memorized the outline of her body
and forgot the coldness of mine. 
some nights i can still hear the echos
of your ringtone,
i can still feel the ghosts of your kisses send
shivers down my spine.
but i’ll be okay, cutiepie.
i’ll be just fine.
i’m learning that happiness comes without you,
i’ll be alright.

0 notes / 6 months ago

day 1; ferris wheel

On top of the ferris wheel, on top of the world.
Your gloved hand in mine, the feeling of your thumb tracing circles against the back of my hand.
My head finding just the right place on your shoulder. 
Hundreds of feet above ground, I am weightless with you.
I told you my theory about how the saddest people are the ones who enjoy roller coasters the most: it’s suicide without the consequences. 
There is a certain fearlessness that comes with growing up. 
It’s not that we want to die, it’s that we realize our heartbeats could be paralyzed at any second.
It’s not that we welcome death, it’s that facing it makes us feel more alive.
I looked over the edge and wondered if this is how God must feel, wondered if the reason why everything’s gone to shit is because he’s afraid of heights.
Maybe He needs someone like you
to whisper in His ear and send shivers and goosebumps down His arm.
The ferris wheel starts coming down as soon as your nose hits mine, and your laugh makes me feel warm because you’ve learned just like me that life is all about messing up,
and trying one more time.
Ferris wheel is halfway down,
this time you get it right.

0 notes / 6 months ago