This page is dedicated to some of the poetry and musings I have written over the past few years.
note to the reader: "_" represents redacted lines for privacy and is used as a placeholder to preserve the original length of the poem.
This page is dedicated to some of the poetry and musings I have written over the past few years.
note to the reader: "_" represents redacted lines for privacy and is used as a placeholder to preserve the original length of the poem.
No one has been beside me for as long as you have.
your colors have faded
your eyes have been scratched
your whiskers have been cut
your mouth is ripped
and your stuffing has been replaced
but you are still tiger all the same.
you still sit proudly on my bed
guarding all of the younger stuffies
like a brave little soldier
as you wait for my return.
you have been here for so long
that i do not remember a time when you were not there.
you’ve been here through giggles
and tears
playtime
and adventures
and every single year
has had at least one good thing
because you are still here.
im a big girl now
but i still end my days the same
as if i were five
with you, sweet prince
my little tiger
right by my side
to have and to hold
to cuddle when its cold
to dry my tears
to hear my fears
to guard my dreams
and always protect me
you and i?
we’re getting old now
but forever you shall stay
you'll always have a place on my bed
till the end of all my days.
you’ve guarded me then
you guard me still
always have
always will
no monster too big
no nightmare too scary
As long as you are here
I’ll never need to be wary
this bed is warmer
with you near
my world is safer
thanks to you, dear.
though you are made of polyester
plastic beads
and cotton stuffing
there is a soul within
one made for everything good
one meant for loving.
we stick together in this big scary world
ill say it again,
and one million more
goodnight, sweet tiger
i will see you in the morn.
i have never been in love.
i have never kissed another.
let alone hold someone’s hand.
i have never felt that undeniable spark
that everyone describes as love.
well.
at least that is what i have been told.
by now, i have been convinced
that since i have never been in love
i will never find it.
the time has passed.
its too late.
even though im young.
i have come to terms with the fact
that i will never know what it is to be
young and in love.
when i look at my future, i find myself alone.
no one has appeared to fill the empty space
in the way that i hope.
and i am told by many that such a thing
is the worst tragedy.
but is that really true?
i know my heart is ready to give and receive love
in its purest and brightest forms
but it is here and now that i wonder if everyone
every
single
one
was wrong.
they told me that love, in its highest form,
is created only through divine matrimony.
that it is best when the seeds are sowed
between kisses and dates
subtle touches and black lace
but i swear.
i have felt something far stronger
that romance could perhaps never give me.
so, i do insist, that i have fallen in love.
ive fallen in love with friends.
my life.
the past, the present, the future.
even though no romance fills the void.
they have given me more than any man ever could
or has ever dared to do
let alone try.
i can think of several names
on the very tip of my tongue
to speak of when this world is done
each a friend
each chosen
to hold my hand
and face the sun
as the world explodes
into complete oblivion.
they would stand beside me
brave and tall
unafraid to face it all
they’d smile at me still
they’d speak true
that romance is not required
to say i love you.
and mean it.
every single time.
yet not a single face nor utterance
of a romantic lover can appear before me
in my mind to do the same.
not a single one.
not a single name.
so do not tell me i know nothing of love.
and i vehemently detest
the notion that love
can only exist between two people
partnered like doves
when i have a whole flock to care for
to watch grow and thrive
several sweethearts
because friendship is just as divine
just a holy
just as eternal
as matrimony.
perhaps some day i will know romance
but until then, i shall instead dance
with friends and life
i will love with all my heart
and love deeply.
they’ve been here through many seasons
they know my every peak and valley
their care has become a beacon
and they choose to still love me fiercely.
i will not let those take away love from me
just because it is deemed not enough
but it is enough for me.
im happier in knowing
that love comes in many forms
its golden threads weaving their way
in every chamber of my heart
keeping it together
until death do we part.
do not tell me i do not know love.
i feel it in the furthest reaches of my soul
in every smile, glance,
every whisper despite the cold
it will burn bright,
it will forever ring true,
that romance is not the only way
to say i love you.
i would die for them.
i would protect them with every inch of skin i have.
do not tell me i do not know love.
do not tell me i do not understand.
i understand it with my mind body and soul.
it pushed me out of the darkest pits of despair
because a light of hope caught my stare
even when i was near convinced
that death was my only call.
because i fear that this romance limits love
that this love is not worth the risk
because i have been told that i do not understand
because i do not know romance.
what sort of darkness have we subjected ourselves to?
to limit love
despite its presence all around?
do not tell me i do not understand.
i know myself outside romance
and it is because i knew how to say
i love you without it.
to the birds, the trees,
to the sun in the sky and the gentle breeze,
to the girl on the corner
and the boy with his mother
to my friends who need comfort,
i have loved deeply like no other.
and i think
i feel
i believe
love is truest
purest
and strongest
when we know the love of a friend
before we know the love of romance.
so to this, i say,
love truly.
love deeply.
let it consume you whole.
in every way, shape, and form.
and it will return to you
one thousandfold.
the mirror has not always been my friend
and today we still fight
i see all that doesnt fit
and decide it to be a horrible sight
but such is life
i have to give myself heart first
even if i struggle
even if it hurts.
the thing about self love
the thing about my self love
is that the bath of sunlight
in which i now dwell
sits upon a cliff
with a pit of pure hell
and rage
burning below me
the same one that i once crawled out of
and struggle to balance above.
as i stand here
i will look to the sky
for as long as i can
admiring the whites and blues
seeing all its beauty
bright and true
and even if i fall back into this canyon of despair
ill stare at the sky and feel the air
waiting and watching
wondering why life isnt fair
and smiling all the same.
because i crawled out of here once
twice
a thousand times before
how could it kill me this time,
just one time more?
i love myself today
despite my self inflicted wounds
i rip out arrows from betwixt my bones
and look away from an early tomb.
i kiss each arrowhead
and watch it turn to dust
it isnt easy loving myself
but there is no choice
it is a must.
the paradox of hate and love
was almost the death of me
but i refuse to let it settle
to root within me
though i bruise and bleed
though i break and shatter
the mosaic of my heart holds pieces of a story
and words of wisdom
that only i can scatter.
to every corner of the earth
willing to pick it up
with gentle hands
just gentle enough
to understand the complexities of the world
and still choose to love.
with that, i plead to you,
march on, my friend
your story is a tale meant to be told
though the road ahead may be difficult,
be forever brave
be forever bold.
i don’t think i’m pretty.
there are things in this world that make us pick and prod at ourselves, wondering why we are not enough, and i myself have fallen victim.
i see everyone else and i wonder, but what about me?
and i think, i’m not that pretty. i simply exist.
and i cry. oh, have i cried so much over this, realizing that i am stuck with what i have been given and that nothing will change that. this is who i am. this is all i ever will be.
so.
is she pretty?
but this isn’t the end of it. it is only the beginning.
sometimes, i stop and realize something so important. so special.
i realize what i have. i truly realize it.
i have hair on my head that i love to braid. lips to frame the picture of my teeth in a smile.
i have brown eyes for seeing the beauty in the world, in all the little things.
i have feet meant for walking, to take me on the grand journey of life,
and hands meant to create. arms meant for hugging and a heart meant for loving.
a voice that loves to sing and laugh.
ears to let me listen to the music and legs that let me dance.
and i think, perhaps that is enough.
that it is beautiful.
in the universe's grand scheme, with all its stars and planets, i was given these things for life.
the universe chose to love me first. and that is enough for me.
what are we if we do not love?
If I am to be a hopeless romantic, then I say let it be
if it is foolish of me to blindly hope
To blindly love and accept everyone I see
Before I know the pain they could potentially inflict on me
Then call me a fool.
If it is utterly childish to be optimistic
To hope with every bit of my soul that this earth is full of good
To love with every part of me
And wish that there is good around me
Then call me a child
And let me allow this child to roam free in this world of hate and darkness
Like a lantern on a stormy night
Or the last burning star on a pitch black sky
This child
She knows more than I, the innocence of love shall triumph over the maturity of realism
Realism seems to often lean upon the pillars of hate and apathy
And god strike me down if I ever look upon the face of a human
For the first time
And decide that they are not worthy of love in this cruel world.
This heart
How it swells with love till it hurts
I am a sinner if I keep it caged
I am a prisoner if i cage my love
A cycle of pain and agony
I will not let it go unbroken.
I can’t die.
I have not met all of me yet.
I talk so badly about her
Yet I don’t even know her yet
Her likes, her dislikes
The food she’ll love when she tries it the first time
Or the song she’ll hate ten years from now
Who will be there to hold her tight when it’s cold?
What song will make her realize she’s in love?
Where will she drive when she needs to clear her head?
Who will she watch her last sunset with?
When will she finally feel free?
I don’t know.
I haven’t met all of me yet.
I can’t die
I can’t give up
I need to be a little nicer
When there’s still so much about me
that I am meant to find.
Oh how beautiful it is that our hands are meant to hold!
How easy our fingers slip between the fingers of another!
How sweet it is that lips can fit on lips, noses pressed together when desperate for a kiss
and how lovely it is that even in slumber do our souls yearn for each other
because not one waking or sleeping second should ever be spent without you,
how absolutely perfect it is that a head can fit right up against our necks,
in hugs. Embraces. Cuddles.
beside each other with warmth to bind us together.
I used to hate living. but after years of darkness, how could I?
Mother Nature has a heart.
What better gift than to be loved by the indomitable force of the world around us so that we too can love another?
how comforting it feels to know
that in all the grand power of this world,
with mystery spread across all the galaxies,
us. just us. little people, a speck of stardust on our little planet.
She gave us thought. To the crinkles of our smiles and the sparkles in our eyes, or the very atoms that form our hearts and the very essence of our souls.
She made us with love in mind.
How comforting to know that no matter the trial I shall be accompanied with Her love every step of the way.
a life i have never known
slips through my fingers
i gaze longingly
at a beautiful culture
that is mine
yet so distant and strange
nostalgia grows
for the life i do not have
and deep seeded envy extends
to the pretty girls who live it
i look in the mirror
thinking of names i have been called
there are names i have been given to lift me up
but it is the more venomous ones
that match my pale skin
my untrained tongue
and my misunderstanding ear
more
than the hands that hold my face
and say
que linda, que bonita
que inteligente
que valiente.
i am their granddaughter
but it has been 22 years
and i still do not feel like it.
i would rather burn
than be victim to the plague of the heartless.
If this world is fated to hollow out the souls
Of all who walk the earth
To scrape them clean
Of hopes and dreams
Because love became too hard
Too complex
Too inconvenient
Then i would rather burn.
I would rather burn
To cling close to the sun and all her beauty
If it is true that we are meant to be beings of apathy
Of hatred
Of callousness
I would rather burn.
But look at us
Look at how our eyes shine in the light
Aren’t we supposed to burn?
Look how we hug one another
And shake each others hands
Clasp the faces of our loved ones
When it’s been so long since we’ve last seen them
And we notice a twinkle in their eyes.
Look at how the beauty of nature brings tears to all
How music joins us together in dance
How emotions transcend our words
And how smiles and tears convey just as much
Aren’t we supposed to burn?
I would rather burn
Than look away from the beauty and compassion of life
And pretend that we are not meant to care.
I would rather burn
And be laid in a bed of flowers
With charred fingers and sunken eyes
And a heart that last beat
With the blood of love.
This world is full of sadness
But this life, i live for me.
I would rather burn.