Poetry to you

We lost our way for reasons we understand, but don’t want to change. Visions of you everywhere I go, but not making the attempt to go see you. Communication is a two way street, but neither of us want to meet halfway. Or maybe that’s not even true. In my heart, I want to take those steps to see your face, but my mind tells me to stay home and finish cleaning.

Poetry of you because I know better to spill it all. Poetry of you because I can’t make the phone call. Poetry of you because I drive another direction. Poetry of you because what’s there to come home to?

The Town

I remember waiting for the train to go home. It was my first time ever taking a train and this one in particular would take me to New York. The ride was forty minutes. I remember being on the phone with my friend Stacy, and we were talking about our ex boyfriends at the time. Once I arrived to New York, I made sure to look really mean and turn my hands into fists just in case I had to fight. I made sure my hair was messy, my clothes baggy, and my face filthy just in case someone tried to hurt me. I paid for my ticket at the bus terminal and waited an hour and thirty minutes for my bus. Once I got on the bus, I felt at ease. As we made our way out the terminal, the city lights exposed themselves into the night sky. My heart started racing because the last time I saw those lights was when I was with Leon. My eyes started to get heavy and I told myself I didn’t think I could do New York without Leon. My friend Carlos at the time was chatting me up about how he wanted us to hang out when I got back to school. He could tell that the conversation was boring me so he told me to listen to this album called Kiss Land from the Weeknd. I put the album on repeat the whole way home. “You did many things, that I liked, that I liked. And you like diamond rings, I can provide…I can provide for you.” Listening to the song now, I see the New York City lights, I feel the fear of not being with Leon, and I remember the feeling of excitement of starting my life without him. Going down memory lane, I really wonder if it all ever happened. Was I really there. Did that part of my life really happen. All those people I met who fell in love with me and I slowly fell in love with them. I wish I could’ve held on stronger, loved a littler longer…tried a little harder. I wish I was a problem solver.

Emotional Suicide

It’s like I’m setting myself up for disaster

what exactly am I after

You told me it’s gonna take some time

some time before I can call you mine again

some time before we can work on being friends

some time before you can get over the end

part of me saying fuck it I’ve been waiting for so long

part of me saying I’m gone, I’m done

Part of me saying just wait a minute

you’re just mad just quit it

but everything you’ve been saying telling me you’re not with it

So why am I anticipating text messages and phone calls

why am I anticipating anything at all

You give me a minute of your time, and I fall for you again

just so you can tell me that you’re not trying to start a trend

Damn, I’m so tired I don’t give a damn

you hitting me up more and I don’t give a damn

you telling me you want to hang out, but it’s too late

don’t even want you as my man or as my friend

I feel tears start to build up in my eyes

feel like I’m being pulled by two sides

trying to move on, but catch myself waiting on you

I don’t know why I keep doing it

I call it emotional suicide.



There’s something about being broken. You know that you are and you’re in a constant debate on whether you love it or you hate it. The thing is you don’t expect much of yourself and people don’t expect much out of you either. You know that you’re fucked up in more ways than one. But then you’re disappointed because you want so much more,but can’t handle the pressure of being let down or to let down.

Ready for love?

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m looking for love. I want it in it’s truest form. I crave it and I don’t know why. I want the happy moments, the adventures, the solidity of it. I really put my heart and all my effort into it always stretching myself out thin. To the point where, I hate to say it, it’s desperation.

I can’t force someone to love me. I question myself like is there something wrong with me? Am I not great enough? Are my tries not grand enough? But then i think to myself, no I am great. I shouldn’t allow anyone try to convince me that I am not deserving of love. sometimes I feel like I lower my standards in order to feel the affection and acceptance of someone. I get lost between what is tolerable and what is not.

I think I’m tired of trying and putting in all of my effort for people who are not willing to try for me. I never hold back and I always give my all. With everything that I love.

I think it’s the Lord’s way of telling me to take all of my effort and invest it in myself. To take all of my heartbreak and learn to just lay off and keep my eyes and heart focused on my goals. To always put myself-wants and needs-first above all things.

I’m not closing my heart to love. I’m just not going to look for it, not going to cry for it, and not going to beg for it. Who ever else steps into my life, I hope I am in good standing with God and good standing with myself. Focus on yourself and everything else will come to you.



Another One

Another one for the books, I say

After every fuck up I make…

It’s my way of getting over things

Just accepting the fact that I put myself in the position

I’m inĀ and laugh at myself thinking, “Well there you go again”

Another one for the books, I say

Imagining myself writing about it some day and maybe someone

else would be reading and laughing with me too

or maybe even at me, or at themselves because they can relate

to someone who puts themselves in their own hell

Oh that was great, I say as if I keep beating my own records

Building myself up just to beat myself down

Meeting someone new and thinking maybe this time around

Nope, just another one for the books

Go you….go…you