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Poem #353

They are talking about us as if it were their business
to dissect every fiber of our existence.
They wanted us to know it’s never going to work
because we don’t fit in with their point of view.

As if faith asked who we are and where we come from
and how much we have before it brought us together.
As if we could pick where our hearts want to rest.

It was like the movies, a bad boy chasing after the girl
that was looking for a reason to release all inhibitions.
What the movies didn’t teach us is that the happy ending
does not play out in real life.

The movie starts, we fall in love at first sight.
By the middle we jump over the obstacles in the name of love.
The plot twist comes, doubts start creeping in and we are
too young to process all of this.

In the movies love beats all but when you aren’t on the big screen
love is set aside and heartbreak takes the lead.
We betrayed us, we fell in line to take their point of view
just to justify why we couldn’t rise above.

Maybe we will learn from this, maybe we will know better because of this. And maybe it would all burn less if it was a decision and not
society’s imposition.

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Poem #352

Does losing creativity mean you have lost your soul?
Does the inability to create art mean you became hollow?

Life should be a well of inspiration but it was what
stripped your passion for expression away.

We have it all and we became the survive nation of the world.
There is no living in pretending to be happy.

The trinkets you acquire to fill empty spaces of your spirit
will always be just trinkets that break easily and go out of fashion.

Maybe salvation is in the rediscovery.
Rediscovery of beauty, art, living and poetry.
The rediscovery of the soul.

Latest Poem: Poem #351
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Poem #351

He didn’t ask questions, didn’t try to know you and
you fell in love with the way he held you
like a shell, a beautiful shell, but still a shell.

You built a story about your love because you thought
that you were supposed to feel love by then but it
was not love. It was excitement of the touch,
reaction of the body, sounds you believed you had to make.

What a terrible thing it is to convince a young mind
love is only skin on skin. Young and broken, you wanted
to believe that it was all real. Believe you had to ability to feel.

From that young age you were in search of those
who would touch your body but wouldn’t ask about your soul.
You put him on a pedestal, saying no one will ever love you like him
not realizing he never loved you to being with.

Blurry nights, packs of cigarettes and tequila shots.
Your hips, your hands, your body moving to the rhythm.
Your eyes closed, imagining those arms belong to him.

You decide to hide. The scars burn the same at 16 and 25.
You are scared that what’s inside you would scare the one in front of you. You perfected the art of being a shell, a beautiful shell but still a shell. The past is an old suitcase you hide under the bed.

You see him on the street and you want to scream:
“Why didn’t you care to know who I was?”
but not even a whisper leaves your mouth.

You are weak at the knees, the story flashes in front of your eyes.
Maybe you are powerless around him, because you are in presence of love? Maybe you were supposed to have it all but you were both too young? Or maybe, just maybe you want to believe that beautiful lie?

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Poem #350

Maybe love is an ocean and while some try to swim,
some decide to let go and drown.

To some, happiness is a foreign body. They cannot
deal with something they weren’t exposed to before.

Some are scared to discover love because they know the
first question they’d ask would be:
Where was this my whole life?

Latest Poem: Poem #349
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Poem #349

I did not smoke a pack a day because
I was addicted to nicotine.
I was trying to poison the memory of you.

I wanted it to be as black as the lungs on the pack.
I did not want for it to have a chance to survive.
I wanted it to be the ash I just throw in the garbage.

Knowing us and what we had, the ashes would catch fire
and burn my house down the same way that love burned us.

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Poem #348

If pain was the flag you flew under
how do you turn to happiness and not lose
a part of yourself?

If the art of suffering in rhymes was your art
how do you decide to smile and not
kill the poet inside?

Both sides of your existence meet and it’s like
two volcanoes erupting at the same time.
You are just running from the lava, trying not to
turn to ash.

When heart and mind collide
how can you survive?

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Poem #347

The ground might sparkle in white, 
but the day is cold and dark. 
The miles aren’t the problem, 
an invisible enemy is directing this night. 
Souls across the world are just 
trying to keep warm in the  
loneliest time of them all.  

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Poem #346

The past crashed right into the present.
Right into this moment.
“How are you, haven’t seen you in so long”
We start making small talk and in your eyes
I recognize what I fell for.

I don’t know if I should’ve given you a hug,
maybe it would’ve been too much.
I wish to swirl that curl you have in your hair,
right above your forehead.
We were young and now freedom is replaced
by questioning ourselves.

Please don’t ask to see me again because
you know I will say yes.
Every time I couldn’t keep you for more than
a few hours caused so much pain.
We were young when our lips met, maybe we should
keep that innocence. Keep the past in the past.

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Poem #345

The light effortlessly came through the curtains
and created a golden line from her shoulder to her thigh.

That skin was like a canvas waiting for color.
That hair was like violin strings waiting for the music.

Human in the imperfection, lady in the nakedness.
Eyes like two oceans hiding secrets in the depth.

To entice the mind, to satisfy the soul she moved
her body to bathe in the gold.

The maker of desire, beauty beyond measure
she knew how to harness power in simple pleasures.

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Poem #344

Remember those words you said on the
sidewalk half past midnight?
You don’t, do you? People forget meaningless things.
Maybe you said it because you wanted to see me happy,
maybe because you thought you had to say it.
Anyhow, the happiness had an expiration date.

It was bittersweet how those words provoked
the same sensation as loneliness did.
The shivers down my spine, in need of long showers
to clear my mind. Not being able to function because
I was thinking of you, thinking about our moments while
burning alive in that empty room.

Latest Poem: Poem #343
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