If the walls could talk

If these walls could talk, they would have so much to say.

They would tell a story which we wouldn’t believe because
things like that don’t happen in our neighborhood, this
is a good neighborhood. A story we wouldn’t believe to
be true because things like that only happen on TV, only
to people we don’t know, the people we know don’t
live these stories.

If these walls could talk, they wouldn’t talk. They would scream.

The walls would scream but you didn’t and you still aren’t.
Don’t let anyone hear what’s happening, don’t seek for help
because no one will believe you and it could only get worse if the
cops take him away because he will return and then seconds
will be a matter of life and death. If you seek help he will place
his hands around your neck and your daughter’s neck and her
daughter’s neck and he will suffocate a generation of women but
he will suffocate it even if you scream so why are you still
holding your breath?

If these walls could talk, they wouldn’t talk. They would cry.

Well that’s the thing you have in common with the walls hiding your
misery. You cry. You cry over your daughters fragile life as you put
her to sleep, you cry hugging your son hoping he will never have the
courage to stand up to him and end up killed, you cry under the shower
so no one would hear. You cry when you fall down the stairs and you
laugh while you tell your friends that you fell down the stairs because
things like that happen behind crying walls. No one will notice your shame.

If these walls could talk, they wouldn’t talk. They would bleed.

And you too bleed every time you realize you’re living oppressed by
that filthy beast. Why are you holding your tears and hiding your
wounds? Show them to the world because if you don’t that sad
destiny will be your daughter’s destiny because she will mistake
violence for love. If you don’t teach her she has the right to live
and breathe and fight she might never learn it herself
and she just might end up hiding her bruises as well.

Who will talk first – the walls or the women?

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The start

I don’t need all of your tomorrows.
I don’t need your promises and I don’t
need you to paint my sky blue when it’s gray.
I don’t need our vision of the future and
I don’t need you to tell me you’ll be mine.
I don’t need you to love me.

I need to live on the start. The days when
everything is perfect and that tingling sensation
is rushing down my body every time we touch.
Just keep me on that start, keep that
feeling of having the world at our feet in my heart.

Let’s just stay on the start. Keep the innocence
safe between these walls, don’t let the world in,
don’t let the obstacles stand between. Let’s just not
move from the start. Keep this feeling alive, keep
us alive.

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Don’t

Don’t flatter yourself thinking I still love you
just because my poems are still about you.
I will write until my breath runs out and if I’m
writing about you it only means you never listened
to me when I had something to say.

Don’t feed your ego thinking I still need you and
miss you because I don’t. I just miss having
someone to hug at night. I miss the habit and not you.
I need someone who won’t give up when the going
gets rough and that someone is not you.

Don’t. Just don’t.

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Cigarettes

Like this cigarette, you are my vice and even though
you poisoned me you made me feel alive.
Like a cigarette I burned out. Your arrival
will be the fire – come here and light me up.

Like a cigarette

I wrote this little piece for a certain person a while ago and I remembered it today because I’ve quit smoking due to some health issues and I’ve been cigarette free for 20 days now. I know it’s a nasty habit and I’m glad I’m managing all of this well. I remember always writing with a cigarette in my mouth, I thought I couldn’t do it without them but I kicked the habit! Check out the whole poem clicking here.

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Take care

I want the best for you. I want the days to
be sunny when you need them to and I want it
to rain hard when you want to hide under the
blankets even though I’m not there to keep you
warm. Even though there are other hands feeling
you heartbeats before you go to sleep.

I want the best for you and this isn’t an “I’m a better
person” manifest nor is it a proof I’m over you. This
is just me speaking my mind in order to cleanse my soul
but honey, there are a few things you need to know.

I didn’t give up trying to fix us because you left me. I gave
up because I forgot how to be myself while loving you.
I didn’t hold on for so long because I wanted you back. I held
on because you weren’t a Band-Aid I could just rip off.
I gave you so much of me and took so much of you that
you became a part of me and honey, it was hard to feel whole again.

Honey, you can drag through your bed as many women as
you want but they won’t make you love yourself. They will just
be a temporary cure for your eternal illness.
Honey, you shouldn’t feel special if next to me you had five of
them on hold. You should ask yourself what’s wrong with you
if you need a line of women to make you feel like a man.

Honey, that warmth in your bed won’t warm the stone you
carry in your chest. Honey, convincing yourself you love her
won’t make it true and won’t make you capable of feeling.
Honey, if you don’t accept the truth you will waste your life
on temporary, loveless illusions.

Honey, seek help while you’re young but please, oh please
don’t come looking for it in my arms again. Even though, I
wish you the best honey, you are drowning and I can’t be
your life vest.  It’s time for me to give myself the love I’ve
been giving you for too long. Honey, take care.

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Dead spot

I refer to this place I’m in right know
as to a dead spot. I’ve been on this dead spot
for years,  no movement forward or backwards.
the same shit, every day, for years.

I bang my head into a wall thinking it will bring
me clarity because no right answer in my life
came from happiness. It always came from pain.
Nothing happened. I just have a red mark on my
forehead now. Guess the pain isn’t working anymore.

But that one great thing is coming. I know it is. I’ve been
waiting for it for years. High school graduation, university,
boyfriends, new job, new meditation… I thought all of these
things were that one big thing, but I was wrong. And I was wrong
one too many times and now the doors are shut and the windows
are so small I can’t crawl out and I’m stuck here on this dead spot
and I’m trying and I’m pretending I know where I’m going and the
key word here is “I” because it’s just me here, I’m alone here.

I did this to myself. I got me here and I don’t know how to get out.
I don’t know how to ask for help. I can’t find that one big thing,
that great change. Maybe I am the thing that needs to change.
Who am I?

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Online pain

It doesn’t really hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.
Sometimes the memories float through my
mind and make me shiver but it doesn’t
hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while. Sometimes
I miss you before closing my sleepy eyes and
I feel like I can feel your touch but it doesn’t
hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.

Years and years ago people waited for the
pain to go away, for the heart to heal and then
they were alright, but now it’s hard to clean one’s
life from a former lover’s presence. You are
virtually reminding me that you’re not mine but it
doesn’t hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.

To hell with pain, I can deal with that but I
can’t deal with not being able to escape your
eyes and move on with my life. You are always looking
at me from pictures, reminding me of what we
had and even thought it doesn’t hurt anymore,
and it hasn’t in a while, I’m still sitting here waiting
for your presence to go offline.

I’m waiting for your name to stop being on the top
of my messenger contacts. I’m waiting for my hand
to stop clicking your name wanting to write something.
I’m waiting for Instagram stories to stop telling me
where you are. I’m waiting for the day I’ll stop opening
them. I’m waiting for our pictures to disappear from
my gallery. I’m waiting for a day I’ll be strong enough
to delete them like you deleted me.

But it doesn’t really hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.

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