Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Onto the Next – Personal Poetry Collection

Basically, I don’t believe there is such a thing as enough. And it terrifies me. So, I constantly jump to the next thing hoping that becomes enough “enough” for me.

 

December 12, 2019

Onto the Next

There is no end

my friends

they say,

“don’t delay

soon will be your day!”

 

But next thing I know

I’m outside a new door

cold and sore

no space to soar

too quiet to roar

time to pick up an oar.

 

And to the next river go.

What happens when at sea?

At peace will I be?

or…

is there more to see?

 

 

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Note:

Picture from Pexel’s Free Photo Library

 

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Will You Accept Me as I Am? – Personal Poetry Collection

I wrote this poem in different colored permanent markers in my art journal, hence the different colored text. It’s about acknowledging I’m a work in progress and hoping the people in my life accept and support my crazy form of progression.

 

December 12, 2019

Will You Accept Me as I Am?

please forgive me all my ails.

for I have not yet set sail

The grit still on my nails

and self doubt like hail

 

All around me the storm begins

Will you seek shelter?

or through the chaos grin?

 

I wish, for you, I had more to give.

I know this is no way to live

My mind like a sieve.

you, yes

me, moot

my life is a fib.

 

Ever since the crib.

until now – ad lib

 

Let me cry.

Let me fall.

Let me get high

then let me stall

until I do it again.

 

 

 

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Note:

Picture from Pexel’s Free Photo Library

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Doodle Flowers – Personal Poetry Collection

Ooooh, I remember this one. It’s about someone I considered a friend who would ask for my help constantly, which I gave to her gladly, but when I needed a friend she wasn’t there for me. Instead, I would doodle flowers in my notebook to soothe my anxiety.

January 2019

Doodle Flowers

Softly they bloom

Somehow they soothe

Those little flowers

Like little sprites

 

Working their magic

Isn’t it tragic?

The need

from a friend?

 

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Note:

Photo is of the doodle flowers referred to in the poem. I remember flipping to a random page to fill with flowers just to occupy my hands and mind. I don’t remember why I was stressed or what my “friend” refused to help me through, but I remember the flowers.

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

My Relationships – Personal Poetry Collection

Aw man… This poem makes me sad. What was I going through when I wrote it? It sounds like the opposite of my first (and only) relationship. Like, if this were the perspective of me over-correcting in a future relationship. So much, that the roles are now reversed. This is why I write a little intro paragraph to my poems. I would like to remember a bit of the why or feelings associated. I am confused but mostly saddened by this poem.

 

January 23, 2019

My Relationships

You give

I take

 

You take

I cry

 

Because in my mind’s eye

You are saying goodbye

 

As I try to buy your love

you sigh and say,

Continue reading “My Relationships – Personal Poetry Collection”

Posted in Dietetic Internship in Puerto Rico, Personal Poetry Collection

Go Home. – Personal Poetry Collection

As surprised as I am that I haven’t published this poem yet, I understand. This one came from such raw pain. I wrote it immediately after “I Wasn’t Always Mute” when I was waiting for a phone call from my dietetic internship director to scold my internship partner and me. I questioned everything in those moments. My future profession, my choice of internship, and most importantly, if my hardships would be worth it. Man… I feel the desperation simply in my handwriting. I still wonder if I made the best choice… Over a year later, I still don’t know.

 

October 26, 2018

Go Home.

I don’t want this.

Isn’t that simple?

Don’t want.

Don’t do.

 

I. am. a. fool.

Continue reading “Go Home. – Personal Poetry Collection”

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection, Texas- Living with Parents

Seeking Solitude – Personal Poetry Collection

I was listening to music and watching videos about art when I wished I had the artistic ability to draw what I felt. Something like a balloon surrounded by cacti. Or a dark room pierced by pinpricks of blinding light. Then I remembered the art of written words: poetry. So I wrote this about relaxing on a hammock and having that peace incessantly interrupted by my parents and intruding thoughts of the past ending in my current struggle of finding my home. 

 

April 8, 2020

Seeking Solitude

 

Moments imagined, savored, and soothing

I forge, however flitting and farce it seems-

‘till two tutting awkward quavering people

appear to gawk, talk, and cluck. 

 

Face away, face away

feel the wind whisper “freedom” 

and you stay and you stay

within the heart of the storm.

Silence your mind, open your shut eyes

find your way, back to reality someday.

Feel your bones and body ache, but 

fight the urge to fly.

 

Tap! At the window or the door?

No, just the windows of my soul

trepid finger positioned recklessly–

tauntingly by my cheek. 

I can’t even squeak.

Taut smile, roll over–

Bump! Triumphant, thoughtless thumps

from that rump.

 

Back inside.

Wrapped in flimsy threads

Oh, remember being told you need meds?

Remember reaching out?

Then being told only a professional could clear your doubts.

 

Sunlight.

I am not in that dark room 

there are not tears streaming down my face

there is no nasty text screaming at me.

It’s me.

It’s always been me.

 

I’m here, but should I be?

Who decides?

Doesn’t feel like me…

 

Just let me go. 

Let me frown and let me drown.

Because the air you use–

now all Co2–

turns me blue.

 

Sunlight!

Please don’t stray!

I know I have no say…

and this to them is play

just, please tell me-

Should I stay?

 

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Note:

Picture was likely taken by my cousin. You can see a 14 year old me in the bottom right.

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

The Secrets I Keep – Personal Poetry Collection

The ironic thing is that I didn’t have secrets back then. I was talking more about keeping secret the fact that I felt sad most of the time and didn’t like to tell other people because I didn’t want to bring the mood down.

 

Spring 2017

The Secrets I Keep

So many cuts on fingers and toes

There is no one who knows

Just like those shows

outside wearing bows

inside reaching new lows

 

Why have foes?

When your flaws stand in rows?

Self goes.

Replaced only by woes

Gathering scraps, she sews

 

No one will ever know.

 

 

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Note:

Picture is from Pexel’s Free Photo Library. I liked it because of the expressions “saving face” and “hiding your true self”.

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

The Night We Stole – Personal Poetry Collection

Or as I like to call it: The Last Poem Pining for that Boy. Like I said in my last poem. I stand with the message of my poems, but I don’t feel this way anymore. Yes, I wrote it pretty recently, but since then a last straw moment happened and it’s all I needed to let these feelings go. We can be friends because I want absolutely nothing more than that, but I’m done putting in effort to be told to back off. I’m done.

 

December 15, 2019

The Night We Stole

It was not meant to be

yet we stole that night

like a bird in flight

quick, graceful, and light

touches you gave me that might

have led to more if bite

I had dared. Or if right

had been the sight.

 

But it was not so.

And now we pay the fee.

Who was in the wrong, me?

Or was it he?

Or was it we?

I couldn’t see

blinded by my glee

I stung though a bee.

 

Now it is right we die

nothing further from foes,

we reached new lows

some might call ho-!

ho- how dare you? Oh!

I’d do it again though.

but next time I would go

on. I wouldn’t stop, no.

 

You are a good guy.

for saying good bye.

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Sweet Regret – Personal Poetry Collection

HA! A lot has happened since I wrote this. I stand with what I wrote, but good riddance!

 

December 19, 2019

Sweet Regret

I regret nothing.

not the broken heart,

not the shattered psyche,

not the betrayal.

 

I lie, but my name is not Judas.

I fight against this.

 

What I felt was real.

What we can never admit aloud

because I enjoyed it.

 

I would choose it again, but I do regret

the circumstances.

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Wishing You the Best, Even if that isn’t Me – Personal Poetry Collection

The last poem hurt; this one just has me numb.

 

December 12, 2019

Wishing You the Best, Even if that isn’t Me

I hope you are happy.

And if you are not,

I hope you will be.

 

I hope she makes you happy

more than I ever could.

I hope she cooks with you

like we once did.

Let her love you

more than I do.

Talk to her

as you do me.

 

I respect your choice.

I understand.

I wouldn’t have picked me either.

 

Just be happy,

and I will smile through my tears

through all my fears

for you

what I wouldn’t do.