Category: writing

Roses

Burn me to ashes when you find me
Helena by My Chemical Romance
Remember Me by Umi

Play a mix of music lit and sad
Have a party and only share the positive
You all know the things I like

Make sure to use my ashes as fertilizer
I want to be near beaches
I want to be near nature

Allow my body to create a beautiful array of roses
Everytime a rose blooms it will be me saying thank you and I love you
Each petal that falls will be tears of happiness

Come visit my rose garden each day
The smell will be my embrace
The sun will be my pecks all over your face

When it rains it means that I want to play
Make sure to always jump in a puddle for me

Chasing Backs

At any age it feels the same
Just chasing
Hope when you get close
Just to blink and see
That ther is so much space
Berween
Whether an ocean
Or a sea
Just out of your reach
You wished they turned
To see the tears
The way your chest heaved
Physically turning green
Will you ever find love here?


BPD

I’m told this disorder stems from fear of abandonment
That ACE incidents shape the negatives
I’m told a story of coming to family with a nest of spiders in my hair
That abuse isn’t always physical or emotional
I tell myself that no one actually loves me
That things happen out of your control
I’m told by the universe I was created to bring happiness and love
All history has taught us that destruction is a constant
I’m told that people can be only good or only bad in my eyes
That’s why I could never forgive and forever love
How can one truly connect when feeling never a part?
How can you be a part when you’re always floating above?
Borderline of deciding something
Life, death, can’t I be done?

A Cat Named November

In the daylight I felt my body quake
Warmth of the sun on my back
The sound of his breath in my ear
A cat meowing on the fire escape

I padded across to the kitchen
My studio apartment felt woken
As if my stretch and yawn caused a stir
The man however didn’t

Put on the coffee
Crack a few eggs
Scramble it with some whole milk
Talk to the cat

It had appeared one rainy fall
Cats normally choose you
He? She? It? November?
Came with the scent of burning wood and onset rain

Autumn was the greatest time of year
Sweater weather, Comfiness
The love and appreciation of what you have
November came with a loud meow

An orange tabby
With brown highlights
Begging for safety
They smelled the rain too
Ran inside as the window opened

A relationship
Not ownership
Comes and goes when sees fit
Has a bed, food, and water

Leaves presents on the fire escape
Only comes in when it rains and to eat
Says good morning and good night
Studies, cooks and sings with me

The man stirred and raised quickly
Nightmare? Slept so good was unaware?
Where he was, who he was with
His focus came slow just like his sly smile

November came in
Meowing as if asking who he was
“A friend who stayed over. Handsome, right?”
The man’s smile turned boyish

Hand stretched out to welcome this authority
November must have approved
Jumped in the man’s lap
Purring and kneading his bare skin

Brown boy
Orange cat
Moring glory
Let’s eat

November enjoyed a bowl of wet food Between I and him
Trusted, but know your place
November kept an eye on him









The Last Christmas

We come to a scene in Long Island, NY. A big red house on a small side road of the only highway in or out of the hamptons. A single mother and a teenager from a class you don’t hear much about in this area. The holidays are all about traditions, this small family was surely different. The daughter, Aminah, had no wants other than to live comfortably. Something she knew was overly ambitious. The mother, Denise, was a dreamer who brought her daughter into the world in hopes to change it. With their family of two the tradition of Christmas was simple. Start shopping two weeks before and buy the tree two days before. Nothing else would be done until the twenty-third, starting with finally putting the lights and bulbs on the tree. Then all day Christmas eve the two of them will work until two or three am wrapping all the presents, putting the finishing touches on the tree, and baking at least five dozen cookies for aunts and uncles.

That was their tradition for the past decade, a smooth dance the two of them completed each year. This one would be diffrent though, and the last one the two of them would spend together. Aminah knew this despite her mother trying her best to console her. The whole year Denise had been in and out of the hospital. This was the first month they had been in their own apartment, and together, since March. Aminah had heard whisperings of Denise denying a gift of a kidney from a classmates family memeber. It seemed each day her mother grew sicker, and her biggest fears were coming true. The clock struck ten, and Denise called Aminah into her room.

“I’ll get up in an hour and we can start setting everything up.” Aminah looked at her mother, pale, slightly out of breath because she had missed dialysis for a few days. “It’s fine, mom. I can do it. Just rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

She tested the different sets of lights, putting up her favorite bulbs and mixing them with the ones they had bought the other day. Tinsel all around the tree, while she chuckled thining about he cute elves from Santa Clause breaking everyone out with it. Lastly, she wrapped her mom’s presents, there would be no cookies this year. She finished everything around five in the morning, checked on her mom before finally going to bed.

Waking up four hours later, Aminah went to her mom’s room for them to open their presents. Denise began to cry as soon as she entered the living room. “You did such a great job, Aminah! The most beautiful tree we’ve had, for sure.” As always, to her surprise, there were about ten extra presents under the tree with her name on it. Aminah still doesn’t know how her mom was able to hide her presents; they would just appear under the tree. When did her mom do it? It had looked like she hadn’t moved since the morning. Most people then watch the parades or Christmas movies, but Aminah was never a fan of these things. So the two of them tuned into the radio and switched from the Oldies station, Delilah, and BLI. Music should never stay in one decade when being listened to.

Aminah started brunch, her signature dish, scrambled eggs with cheese and pancakes. The two sat singing songs, eating, and not talking about the elephant in the room. A beautiful memory, indeed.

Prayers

Sleep, work, break to eat, work, home, eat, and sleep again

Same thing different day

When you were a kid you were the only one who didn’t want to grow up

You were the only one that seemed to understand the truth

Nothing gets better, you can buy things to mask, but don’t get addicted

You prayed

Not having to make choices

Nothing no longer being unfair

No longer fearing letting them all down

You prayed

You understood that there was probably a plan

A plan that you didn’t know

A plan you should follow, it was neither right or wrong

You prayed to no longer be apart of that plan

You prayed for eternal sleep

Yet, here you are twelve years later with nothing on your feet

Your life in a cardboard box

People giving you looks

Pity, shame, hatred and

You pray no one else will fall to this

My Place

Wiping the tears

Rubbing backs

Cooking while singing

Binge watching

Loving the way they wake up

Listening to complaints

First time in a month

First time in months

Unanswered texts

Cute pics on SM

Alone

Stories unfold

Without me

Horrors

She told me not to worry
Like she always did
Now she doesn’t answer my messages
Like those seven years before

She called one late night
As if time didn’t past I ran
Queens to Brooklyn
Leave him I said

High school reunion coming up
Neurotic nights
Too high and burdened with responsibilities
She wanted me to run to her again

I didn’t
She told me about him again
Marriage on the horizon
House sitting on a secluded island

She’s not answering my messages
She’s not answering my texts
A bad feeling sets in my stomach and heart
She’s online so she has to be ok

If he didn’t murder her and leave her phone on
She had already cut me off
Leaving me on read
Like always

Horror stories playing out in my head

Words and Phases

I have begun to realize that words are useless

There isn’t one great reason just many decent ones

People don’t listen so words fall

People don’t speak well so words are misunderstood

People are scared so words aren’t formed

The ability to scare yourself silent

That is the tragedy of being human

 

In the same breath they can bring peace

Hope, salvation, all of the positivity

All coming down to a point of view

All coming down to reading between the lines

Communication isn’t just words

It’s movement and extra sounds

A tragedy that we can’t always trust the five senses

 

Life and feelings are phases of change

One phase not looking like the other

A person’s phases and words never matching

A different stage a different meaning

Everyone’s interpretation silent

Senses and fears

We are human just words and phases