Eve-Like

I am falling out of love
and I am already missing it
my heart cannot feel the same
it stumbled on beats for you
and fell so deeply

It even broke itself
falling..

I am climbing out of love
my eyes have stored enough tears for you
they reached the brim,
one more blink and waterfalls
will flood my cheeks
that once blushed for
you…

I reached my peak
low in oxygen
my lungs have exercised their breathing
whenever you’re around
Now, they exhale you

I am sorry

The stores are closing – it’s late
and I am still browsing
the racks of your heart
for something to catch my eyes
but I end up being
an item
like the rest
for sale
on display
for everyone else

My queue
cannot queue anymore
I find myself
at the head of the line
swiping left
because nothing
is right.. for me
I think.. maybe?

The snake-like line
slithered its way
between my ribs
and
made me bite
more than once
I am Adam’s
kin

Forgive me heart
for I have
sinned

 

Gertrude Hermes ~ Adam and Eve, 1933 ~ Wood Engraving

Gertrude Hermes ~ Adam and Eve, 1933 ~ Wood Engraving

 

 

 

 

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Always “Maybe”

She was never
sometimes
but (some)times
forever

She’s the one
to some
and some…one
to some…ones

She was always
almost
and almost
always…

Everything to him
and every(other) thing
to others

She is often
complete…ly
complete
and not really

She is someday
and for some
some day(s)

She is maybe
but craves to be
just existing
not between
may and be 

She is all of tomorrow morning
noon, and night
but today
she’s with no knight

She is timeless beauty
time(with)less beauty
less time, with beauty
less time & beauty
less
lesser
“less is more” she mour(ns)

Furthermore,
above all,
she was all the above
to take things
further…
more

She is t(here)
can(‘t) you see her?

cecilia parades blend 2

Art by Cecilia Parades

 

 

 

 

 

 

No Plugs

No Strings Attached Plugs…I meant to say

Faulty are the days
when guilt rides your brain
striking iron when hot
melting and molding you
at your weakest…
…Wrong…

…Ethics, stitch plates
of separate thoughts
that never made a connection
to create a Pangea
evolved enough to hold your ground
primitive enough to tickle
your instincts…

…at once…
Remove the stamps of certainty
that “peaced” your mind
and pieced it to applications
make way for the new age
melted lines between
like and love

Instant Love… easy.. double tap
Instant Like.. easier.. tap once

Make way for the cocktail
specially made for you by,
time
your very own bartender, the bystander
always behind the bar
watching you change, sip after sip
consequence after consequence
mishap after the other
downfall, heartbreak after the next..

Stir, before you drink
the contents of this beverage
may result in long term damage
Seek help now, or forever
hold on to that change

Bed those emotions
wake up drown with coffee
Live, bed, repeat,
Boomerang encounters
heartbeats drugged on past cracks
numb to new, clueless
Unless that voice is brave enough to speak
or does it crack under pressure as well?
I “double tap” you…suffices …
enough with sacrifices
it works,
thank you devices
Here have the scalpel
cut my heart out
place device..
remove the dusty welcome mat
and enter your password
remember…
assemble photos
one for each
personality

“Hello, beautiful
have we met?” he says

“Which one?” she says

Low Battery 20%
Connect to a plug socket
to ch…..

xavieralopez GIF

Bus Stop Girl

I saw her smile
at 4:00 pm
the day was set
to slow motion
where one can see
the dust particles
pass across the golden sun rays

She smiled
looking outside
at rather “nothing”
and everything
a bystander or watcher
at peace
or so I thought

She rested her chin
on her palm, her head
seemed heavy with thought
yet so light
as it tilted from time to time
maybe her thoughts were waltzing
or the sun was teasing

Her eyes squinted
as if her mind
projected a story
replayed a dream,
a day dream?
a scene,
she squinted to concentrate
on the details,
maybe she was looking deeper
into her memory? Perhaps…

Her headphones
lay there
loosely, standing out
straight, amidst her curls
I wonder…
what symphonizes
her thoughts?
Does she have a soundtrack
for Monday? Tuesday? Wednesday?
and the rest? Or
what’s on her mind…
She smiles
it’s 4:30pm
the bus isn’t here yet,
the sun scorching
she looks straight
at me…
I didn’t know
humans could
melt at
first
sight

 

Sober Sayings

Those are things that sober selves fear to say & drunken selves probably forget they said.
The below does not pertain to one person but they speak to you and you and you. 

“I am bored”
16 days dry
reality does
slap me stronger
than me, 10 drinks later

“I need a drink”
as my shaky hands
realized the addiction
and the loneliness
that chilled them
night
after
night
after
n

i

g

h

t

“I am unhappy”
as I wake up at 5 am
when I sit in bed
trying to fall asleep

“It doesn’t fulfill me”
as I open the cork
of the next bottle of wine
and turn off the
lights in my memory

“I think I like you”
as the thinking
dilutes itself between
you and I
and my liking melting
like the ice in my drink
as it makes love to the night
of thoughtless thinking

“I am not fine”
as my stroll
z i

g

z  a

g

s its way

home,

alone
to meet my

b
o
t  t
l  e

chilled and lonely
waiting for my company

“I am scared”
of what I want to say
so I say it drunk
hoping it would
wire itself in the stars
and maybe you’d read them…
as I down my
10th
letting her speak
instead of me
ignorant of what she says
versus how I wanted it
to be
or how you see me
when I say it
and you tell me
“you’re drunk”

“Let’s do everything”
as I recklessly drown my body
with potation
silencing its screams
for help…

“I love you”
lost its way
along with its meaning
into my memory labyrinth
as my neurotransmitters
got overcharged
electrocuting themselves
shutting
down
as
I lost
touch
with
everything
real
including
me

nevermore (Thank you Mr. Edgar Allen Poe for this word) 

I am sorry….. 

tumblr_mqd4omn65V1s6tq0go1_1280.gif

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here Have It

Here have my heart
careful though it’s heavy
with stories that turned it to stone

Here have my heart
careful, your hands might burn from
all that flaming passion it carries.. still
and gives … blindly

There , take it, maybe you’ll feel
what it’s like to break on the inside
and mend over and over and over
with a blow-torch hoping
this time it won’t break

Cup it, but be careful
they said “too much love will kill you”
and technically by now
I should have been dead
and the cause of death
strong heart beats too much for
a heart to handle

The “Please Handle With Care” sticker
is barely hanging on the false
premise of handling and the false
promise that care will always be there

The “Fragile” sign
has lied to me and to it
remove it like a band aid
it’s no longer injured
nor drunk

Here have my heart
wait…
where’s your armour mi amore?

Cole Sprouse man

 

 

Line of Sight

My voice scratched its way
to leave my mouth every time
with
WHAT I WANTED TO SAY

Why does it always go
around the vicious circle
of thorns?
smooth then it hurts
why does it hurt
when ALL you did
was pave the way to
what you thought was true..
or right… ?

What is right?
can you always keep doing good?
when all good brings you
is bad

Patience they tell you
how long is that thread
of stillness, acceptance
going to stretch
before it breaks into two
along with your personality
letting the other surface
like an iceberg, chipping
chiseling all the perfect exterior
to show the aftermath of anger
that sinking ships
and violent of stillness

Why do you fall for
the bad, the worse and the worst?
why do you fall
for the other, setting them
on a pedestal so high
that you just fall deeper
setting yourself lower
in the shade
along with your values?
Why don’t you ever become
infatuated with yourself?
“NO!” buries itself
under layers of
insecurities
rotting with maggots
that eat you up
from the inside
every time you
do something
you don’t want to
but do it anyways

Zombie like smiles
tattoo themselves
on your face
“I am very happy”
Do you only see what you see?
or only what you want to see?
“but it’s nice”
the sadistic nature
that’s ruining your days with “maybe’s”
is what is wrong with you
wasted daze …wasted days
drunk with the illusion
of what the heart fools you
foolish one

Your shine dimmed
you forgot to change the
burnt light bulb
in your room
it’s become normal
to see in the dark
to enjoy it
to dim that sparkle
that once
found home
in your eyes

wear your shades
it’s ok the sun still
shines ….
so sometimes
you don’t have
to

window eyes

 

 

 

 

 

Grammar & I

I stumbled on a comma
and took a breather
in between
reminding me
of when I removed
my lips from yours

I paused at a point
and stood in “awe”
against the capital newness
of starting over
reminding me of
the end

I capitalized
the beginning
of each statement
and watched it fade
as it went on running away
from one fact to the next
reminding me
of empty conversations
that fled everything
and filled nothing

I looked up
at quoted quotations
and wondered
at whether the in-between
was worth the importance
worth the limits
worth you

Semi-colons
half opened doors
seduced me to live
“something added”
just for a moment
before
I exited the phrase
or if you want to call it
the “phase”

and
moved
on

let go

 

 

The Little Black Book of I Don’t Know What’s

YOU.

The End.
you 1

Not for the Faint Hearted

Been there, done that?
So you think you’ve got it figured out?  

Go on, turn my pages
undress me with your wit
that’s not embodied in shallow facts
but in details of the mind that
move my core to latch onto your brain
like a leech sucking on your every neuron
making me moan at the sexiness
of its boldness and intelligence
Blow me away…

You’ve been around …
You’ve got it figured out.. don’t you?

Show me that silence between 2 is fine
don’t fill it with empty breaths that only
dilute the golden air
that rests as a hammock between my mouth and yours
for the golden rays
on a Sunday morning to carry
all our exhaustion in cold crisp breaths
that joust with the coffee steam between our palms
Be quiet …
You know what you’re doing
Still think so?  

Turn me on, challenge me
let my fire burn
then turn it off again
repeat, speak, burn, water down
repeat, argue, ignite me, turn me off,
r—e—p—e—a—t
water down my feisty spirit
with answers that form tiny sweat bubbles
on my neck and trickle down my chest
seducing me to think more, want more
but not all
Seduce me …

Not all are created equal,
still think you’ve got it?

I may not be right, but I may not be wrong
balance my instability
society has broken me in places
I did not know could ..
tell me the harsh truth
break the bricks off of my heart
crack my ribs
for the birds in my ribcage
learned to settle once…. ONCE..
and then tasted the sweet juices of liberty
and they have been addicted ever since
Break me

 

Writers are crazy, but I understand you…
I have it in the bag.. you say 

Tell me what you know about them
for I still am learning
let your tongue kiss me with
poetry, philosophy, any form of art

pull my hair back
watch as my eyes dilate
when I read, listen, hear, and see it happen
you say
crazy because I write
I ask
Crazy because YOU don’t understand?

Cup my face with sweaty hands,
feel as my heart beat accelerates at
the sound of dark poetry, sultry prose
single words, said by your voice
my body submits, guards down
skin on skin, mind to mind, eye to eye
and you still tell me:
writers are crazy… but I get you..
and I still
look at you and ask,
so you think
you still got it

figured out
huh?

Thierry Mugler – c. 1995 – Photo by Helmut Newton