An archive of all the poetry that I have ever written, in no particular order.
don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not beautiful
or that your beauty is measured by the curvature of your brows
your ribcage is precious, it’s supposed to be tucked in you like a treasure chest–
not ornaments that you’re obligated to show
don’t be sucked into the brain washing machine of society that says your skin
has to be smooth and white like a porcelain doll
why look like you’re blushing all the time if you aren’t?
those acne scars? pimples? birthmarks? those are just brush strokes of a masterpiece (you)
so throw away that powder and don’t let anyone tell you that your beauty is defined by what the eyes see
because beauty is defined by the magnitude of your strength,
your fight to show what’s right rather than acquiescing to the status quo, trying to be on the same page as everyone else
because honey, you’re a book all on your own, a New York Times best seller
your worth is based on being true to the person in the mirror of your mind
so instead of revealing how ever much of your collarbone that you can
reveal your soul, open up that treasure chest and show the world your heart
it’s so much more beautiful.
How scary it is to love someone so completely, in danger of losing oneself in the wake of their pleasure. How terrifying it is to love someone with the entirety of the heart, the mere thought of losing them brings sorrow to gentle eyes. How haunting it is to love so deeply, that one begins to wonder if they, too, are loved just as much.
And the mere thought of being loved less can make even the strongest dwindle down into a chasm of despair, wasting away…
you don’t realize that everybody that has ever loved you
has walked away because your soul is poison
like snow white’s apple. fragrant and sweet until they realize that if they get any closer
they’ll just end up wounded
you don’t see that they’d rather save their hearts for someone who has one
or at least, one that’s beating genuinely with blue and red
not with gold and leather and pale ghost white
like the makeup you so heavily cake, that
nobody can even recognize who you truly are behind the façade that you so boldly put on
with all of the things you claim to know how to do,
do you think, perchance, you can make some humble pie?
to those who secretly feel invisible
i know how it feels to have a cat in your larynx
roaring to get out, yet everybody assumes
that it’s got your tongue
what they don’t know is that you trained yourself
to take breaths every five words
and how your brain automatically assumes it’s
a trick when someone asks how you’re doing.
I know that anxiety you feel
when you walk into a room and everybody
is already laughing and talking,
and you just want to be a wallflower
and quietly wither away
what they don’t know is that you used to be something more
bongo drums thumping away even after you spot Mars in the sky
but someone said they hated the sound of drums
so you stopped.
She loved him so much
That she could never look him in the face
Because she was afraid
He’d see the sorrow in her eyes
We could be driving on the freeway
Perhaps even laying down, doing nothing
And I speak and speak and speak and
I don’t stop. Yet you listen
One of my favorite things about you
And I truly wonder how an amazing
creature like you came upon my little
sad life. Your love is too much
Please tell me,
Do all lovers start out as
Placeholders for lonely hearts
Fillers for the space in between their fingers?
And do they just grow to love each other
After they settle,
Or does love really exist at first sight?
Or Is that called attraction, which isn’t really love?
So what is it, then
When do lovers know that they are “love”rs
The kisses you plant on my hand
Your daily reminders which make me smile
Tickle fights, pillow fights
The millions of miles you drive to me
Your secret glances that I catch
My mind is a replica of my emotions,
She ticks and tocks with the rhythm of my heartbeat
Utterly indecisive, tumultuous, and full of rage
Jealousy seizes me, sadness defeats me.
I want so badly to love myself,
To cradle my own fingers and kiss my soul
But my mind does not let me, she hates me,
Whispers daggers into my heart
And finds me hiding even in the most discreet alleys
I am afraid that I will never win this chase.
Little did I know that I was climbing higher,
Until I found myself on the edge.
I looked below my feet and
Saw everything that I have always
Been told not to do.
But temptation lured me and took me
And wrapped me and hugged me
And loved me like never before.
My life is now in a free fall;
I regret nothing.
I once was hurt by somebody
Who took my love for granted
Little did they know that my heart
Is an oyster, that does not easily open,
That does not easily trust.
Only with warmth and care do I
Surrender, with hesitation.
I embraced them with my life,
Whispered to them secrets that I keep
Within my soul.
But they ignored me,
And crushed my fragile shell
And left me to wonder why
I even let them come into
My broken life.
My heart is not a mere child’s toy.
It is alive and real, and I only
Want those who want to stay.
Tell me why the deepest thoughts come out at night
And all my shame suddenly pours out from
A little gate in my soul. At 2am is when
I know exactly what I want to do in life,
What I must become. But by sunrise I forget it all
And in the day I lost myself with the
Ongoing traffic of ignorance and recklessness
I wish it was always nighttime
Because that’s when I am most intelligent
Nights that are cold and bleak
remind me of home. I do not know
where my home really is.
It is neither here nor there,
and at times I get upset because
I feel lost and homeless.
There is a vague picture in my mind
that consists of furry carpet,
velvet pillows, and a fireplace.
But I have never had any of those
things. So I don’t really know
And all she wanted to know was
if he, too, saw his future in the reflection
of her loving eyes
And if he would sit on the windowsill
and help her write poems
by thinking of words that
her mind couldn’t say
And if he would understand
why she gets very jealous easily or
why she doesn’t speak sometimes
but he would hug her in silence
and love her broken self
and my problem is
sometimes i find myself
d r i f t i n g
and thinking sad thoughts
He is the reason why
She doesn’t stop to look for dandelions anymore
Or why she is afraid to look at her own reflection
Why she doesn’t crunch her cereal as loudly as she likes
Or why she drinks straight from the bottle instead of
Using the bendy little straws that she liked
And just as paper when it is crumpled…
She is the reason why
He wakes up at 5am on Saturday mornings
Or why he wears those shoes that hurt so much
Or why he takes a dose of cough syrup each night
Why he can’t sit by himself at the lake
And feel the ducks like he used to
And just as leaves when the wind blows them away…
Your silence speaks louder than your voice has
You were the apple of my eye, but you rotted
They don’t tell you, remastered
When you were young, all they taught you were
How to write in cursive and to look both ways
Before crossing the street
Boys ruled the playground and
Pretended to be superheroes
While girls played house and pretended to have a family
But little did you know how hard it actually is
To be seventeen and pregnant and to bring a new life
To this world when you can barely even support your own
They don’t teach you about the world that
Tries to steal your purse when you aren’t looking
They never told you that your very friends can just walk out of your life
As easily as the time your dog ran away when you left the
Gate door open once…
…that’s why you always come back to double-check your door knob these days
No one tells you that someone special will make your heart beat incredibly fast,
As fast as when you would race with your next-door-neighbors down the block…
But only to leave you at your lowest, making you feel empty and broken
…Empty and broken just like your piggy bank after your parents asked you
To lend them money so that you and your siblings can have a dinner on Thanksgiving
They don’t teach you that you will feel the most lonely at night
In your bed, feeling the empty space next to you
Wondering what else you could have, should have done
To keep that person laying down next to you
…and you try to count sheep to put your mind to sleep
But the only thing you can envision is the silhouette of her walking away 6 months ago
And they don’t tell you what to do when you’re standing outside and the rain is pouring all over you,
You’re soaked to the bone
But you don’t even care anymore that
You couldn’t afford to keep a roof over your head
…because your eyes make you just as drenched when you’re inside, anyway
They don’t tell you
It’s better that
You find out on your own
A Love Letter, remastered
I am jealous,
Jealous of the snooze button of the alarm clock
That gets to touch your fingertips first every morning.
The way you entwine your fingers and press your palm against mine
Leaves impressions in my memory
Like a baby’s foot print on clay.
When I’m laying down at night,
I can feel your touch as if
You’re still right there,
Holding my hand.
I’m afraid for whoever stares into your beautiful eyes,
Because you could make brick walls crumble
With that strong gaze of yours.
Your lips are the pillows of my sweetest dreams,
And being in your arms is the closest I’ve ever felt
To being home.
When people drive around town,
They see red, yellow, and green lights
But I don’t see that.
I see the colors of the wings of the butterflies
That you give me.
I hope you understand when I say
That I love you to Pluto and back,
Because I don’t think the moon is far enough
To describe the amount of light years
That my love will travel for you.
I can only write so many metaphors
To express how fast my small heart beats at
The very thought of you
But just know that my love for you is like fine wine;
It’ll grow better over time.
I met a boy
Who was so shy,
He saved up receipts
And wrote me little notes on the back of them
Because he couldn’t talk to me
I thought it was cute
Until every time I went up to him
He would run away and go to the store
Just to get a receipt
It took too long
“She curled her lashes and wore elegant dresses because mirrors don’t show emotional scars”
“He held onto those disheveled sheets”
To those with acne, scars, marks on their skin
I don’t see things the way other people do
You see perfect skin, but I see a blank canvas
And all your little birthmarks, and sunspots,
acne, freckles, burn marks,
Make you the most unique and intricate
Don’t worry, you’re beautiful
Confessing my love for anatomy
I can’t stop thinking about the body
in the most non-sexual sense
organelles, cell, tissue
bones, organs, muscle, skin
blood vessels, nerves
It has all consumed my thoughts
I don’t even know where to begin
The clavicle is my favorite bone
the right-side-up is the bicycle handle,
the posterior view is the bull’s horn
and i think i love it even more because
i can see it in everyone.
and that crazy little hyoid bone
the only bone that floats by itself
i don’t understand it and i probably never will
but i love it because it looks like
the vampire teeth i always wanted to wear for halloween.
along with everyone else
i used to get my phalanges confused with the
position of my metacarpals
but i learned to understand
and i no longer crack my knuckles
or pull my fingers because i don’t want my ligaments to get hurt
i’m afraid i’m too shy to even talk about the thoracic cage
it’s so beautiful, i imagine it housing a hanging potted plant
that one day i’ll have in my backyard
and i have to apologize to the scapula
because i used to think, why, what’s your point?
how do you even fit in the scheme of structure??
it’s like someone just glued you on and
it took me three days to orient where the acromion faced
but i finally understood and everyday i rotate and elevate
just to check that my shoulder blades are still functioning and
that it knows that i care about it. forgive me scapula
my long bones, tibia, fibula, femur, radius, ulna, humerus
and my 2nd favorite bone, the os coxa
i think os coxa is much more artsy, that’s why i refuse to
address it as the pelve
but seriously, its shape amazes me
it is so complex and so well-put with those three fused bones
and if we want to talk about complex
let’s talk about the skull
everybody hates it but it’s absolutely thrilling
crista galli, sounds so magical already
ah, i can talk about bones all day
bones are so beautiful, i can’t stress that enough
we’re all different on the outside but peel all your layers off
and we’re all identical, all perfect
and even though i can’t really get to know a person’s personality
i can still technically know them deep down
i don’t even want to get started on the muscles because
there are just so many, and they amaze me
i have the ability to control it all,
their size, their strength, their actions
yet i don’t realize that i’m talking to them
they say that a tennis player’s dominant forearm is bigger
but they don’t know that it’s all about the brachioradialis
always being contracted when we wrap our thumb around the racket
the energy that muscle exerts is far from minute
and the gastrocnemius and the soleus, i got these confused on the test
because i forgot that the former had two heads.
my boyfriend, he only knows one muscle by heart— gluteus maximus
he just thinks it’s funny to say
what he doesn’t know is that it’s the biggest muscle in the body
or maybe he does, now that we went to the museum
but the ones that i know by heart (another muscle!) are those of the face
and i remembered that i memorized corrugator supercilii
by saying that it would be super silly to get mad at an alligator
and then the two sphincter muscles of the eyes and of the mouth
(just like the anal sphincter, heh)
but my most favorite muscle to say was
and i say each syllable with a neck rotation
i don’t know what is more important
the central nervous system or the blood vessels
but you know what, i’ve come to the conclusion that
their importance are of equal measure in different aspects
and it gives me chills down my spine (neurons, i’d say)
thinking about how everything connects the way it does
why the voluntary and involuntary muscles move the way they do
and maybe it’s all because of the endocrine system
and i still don’t get why they say the pituitary is the master gland
when it is the extension of the hypothalamus
and i think the hypothalamus is the master of it all
wait, but does that mean that the brain is the root of it all?
i love the cerebellum
because it looks like an almond
and the arbor vitae is named rightly so
and interesting how the fontanels provided a way
to squeeze all of the big brain’s contents through the uterus
and i can go on for days
about the organs
the first time i saw a dissected cat, i knew it was passion at first sight
eager to touch the rugae of the stomach even though there were worms in the not-so-fully digested left-over-food,
how the kidney is shaped like the bean,
with its tiny little adrenal glad shaped like a bean sprout
i’ll never forget the first time i saw the pancreas
it’s amazing, lost in the mesentery proper of the duodenum
(i love saying that, dwad-uh-nuhm)
and the spleen
damn that spleen. like the hyoid, i’ll never understand
but i know i’ll learn more about it soon enough
oh, but my favorite is the liver. i love the liver,
with the little gallbladder wedged inside the right medial lobe
i had no idea that the liver was as important as the heart and the brain
but i was naive, so how could i know?
but now that i do, i’ll never ever eat paté
because i know it was just fattened up to be someone’s delicacy
what if they took your liver out to serve with a piece of toast?
and that’s why i don’t want to eat meat anymore
because i finally know what it is, muscle ripped from tendons and joints
and to think, i wanted to go to san diego to eat phil’s bbq
and eat baby back ribs
but all i’d be eating are external and internal intercostals
probably bits and pieces of serratus anterior, teres major,
and external oblique??? i’m not even sure
but one thing i am certain about
is i love anatomy. if i didn’t make that clear enough
count how many times i said “beautiful” and “love”
i’ve never felt this way about any other topic, subject, class
that’s why i know that i’ll never rest easily
if i never pursued this passion.
there is always more to learn about the body
and that curiosity fuels me, inspires me
i’m crazy enough to write this prose at 2am
because i just want to put it out there
that i love it, and i’ll live it
Driving at 11pm at night,
Tired, he just got off work
In the distance he saw lights
And his senses heightened
Excitement, that there was
A carnival in town
But as he raced closer and closer
He found that it was just
Ambulances and fire trucks.
I wish I filled up an old milk jug with coins
With pennies I found on the ground
In the places we went
Just so I can count up how many days
I’ve spent with you
I can think of ten thousand things that I love about you
Yet one little stitch in our beautiful embroidery
Might just be our undoing.
it feels like the flame is fading away,
and i wish it would rekindle soon
because it sucks being in the dark
Baby I think time hates us
because the hands of the clock
move so much faster when
a love letter
you could make brick walls crumble
with that strong gaze of yours,
you lift me off my feet and make me drift
into a state of mind filled with bliss
and a longing that time will stop still, just for us.
sometimes an empty seat across from me
makes me feel like i’m swimming alone
in my fishbowl. it makes me hate everything,
even you, because i become more bitter than
the darkest coffee that has been sitting all
night long, forgotten in the diner sink
but when it’s just you there, everything washes away
and i’m suddenly sewed back up,
my threads no longer loose.
because it’s when i’m alone with you that
makes me remember why it is that
i love the very thought of you.
the way you entwine your fingers and
press your palm against mine
leaves impressions in my memory
like a baby’s foot print on clay
i can only write so many metaphors to tell you
that i love you to Pluto and back,
because i still consider it a planet, and the moon
is not that far away.
why is it that when you walk away
i get the same feeling as when i’m hurling down
from the sky on the swings of a playground
my stomach caves in and instead of butterflies
i feel a swarm of angry bees
my heart turns desolate as it sees the remnant
of your departing shadow
Your love makes wildflowers grow in my soul
And my heart collects the petals, they make me whole
they don’t tell you
when you were in grade school
all they taught you were how to write in cursive and
if the loud, red alarm in the ceiling starts beeping,
you go underneath your desk and hold your neck
boys pretended that they were superheroes while
girls played house and pretended to have a family
but little did you know how hard it actually is, to be a mommy
because they taught you nothing about the world that
tries to steal your purse when you aren’t looking
they never told you that friends walk out of your life
the way your dog ran away from you when you
left the gate door open by accident once
no one tells you that someone will make your heart beat as
fast as when you race across the block with your neighbors
but only to leave, making you feel empty and broken, like your piggy bank
after your parents ask you to lend them money to buy groceries
they don’t teach you that you will feel the most lonely at night
or what to do when it’s pouring and you’re standing there outside,
soaked to the bone because your eyes make you
just as drenched
when you’re at home
they don’t tell you
I have an agitated heart
It dances when all things are well
But throws tantrums when my thoughts are disturbed
I wish it would calm down
So I can just relax and smile
But my heart controls me
It has a mind of its own
It forces me to listen,
Insisting that it is always right.
She had stacks of old diaries tucked in the shadow of her closet,
Where she would never look anymore
Years of pages taped with yellowing pictures, an old flower from a secret valentine
Scraggly letters from lovers, a ripped sleeve from her favorite musician
But beneath those articles hid something deeper, where the pen met the paper;
Secrets of her mind, confessions of a broken heart
Confusion (she was too young).
One day, she stumbled upon it all
(It was accidental, she was looking for a misplaced sock)
And as soon as her fingertips touched the covers, the memories came rushing in like waves at high tide, all at once
And she found herself falling into a hole of the past
But she didn’t let herself, she knew she could not go back
So with all the force she could muster, she pulled herself back out,
Gasping, out of breath, because she was still weak
And as hard as it was, she grabbed those journals and threw them in the fire
Because she knew she had to let go of her past (so she could move on)
I closed my eyes while walking on the sidewalk today
And the thrill of making it all the way through
Kept me going
But the fear of tripping,
And bumping into someone,
Pulled me back
And I realized that it was just like life, condensed.
Take blind risks, and dive headlong into an unknown path,
Or spend a whole lot of time wondering, yet in safety.
She gave him her favorite keychain,
Her first concert shirt of the band she loved,
Her time and patience,
And her first kiss.
She offered him her entire world
But he wanted the moon and the stars
And the oceans and seas
So she spent her whole life thinking
That she wasn’t good enough.
our eyes locked
and you grabbed my heart and ran
and because you’ve seen every piece of it
i never want it back
Your smile is perfection to me, and your lips are the pillows of my sweetest dreams. I adore your essence and your laugh tickles me more than your tickles themselves. You are the reason why I finish my letters with little curly swirls, and why I stop mid-sentence when I speak. I am in love with all of you.
The silence pounding in my ears
My brows furrowed in frustration
And after all these years
A wide chasm still in progression
Thought it’d change over time
But I guess I was wrong
And sadness is no crime
Just here, listening to my song
Hundreds of beautiful girls in the room, yet he only saw her. His gaze unfaltering from her ineffable beauty, he strode over to speak to her. Her smile dazzled in the dim lights, unaware of its witness among the crowd. He approached her, closer and closer, until he was but an arm’s length away. But as the waves of the sea come and go with every second, the crowd shifted, and she vanished from his sight… leaving behind a trail of evanescence. And just like that— gone.
A different type of poem
It’s daylight savings’ and I’ve got two days of makeup, a distant mind where there is a miniature version of me typing away on a typewriter on a stool in a wooden room, that overlooks a city, a heavy heart, and a month and a half of learning to like you. I would choose not to be high off of a person because then they’ll become someone you feel nothing about without— they’ll be the echo that you’re waiting for after every puff of voice. Now I understand, I can fathom, I can grasp, why people choose to be far away from their logos, and tune into their detached selves that care nothing about the people of the world but everything about the galaxy and skies above. I love the sky, it is where God lives, but in actuality we are where God lives if you feel that God created this universe and so we are in God’s house— if we can’t even picture how big the fucking solar system is, then there ain’t nobody who can try to picture what kind of home God has and how impeccably grande it is… Heavy.. Heavy.. My heart is biologically but more so figuratively heavier than my eyes, which physically, they are, because it’s time to go to sleep.
I’ve always been that
dissipating, at your
every word’s disposal,
heart on my forehead
type of girl.
Someone once said that
he would pay money
just to paint a fence with
but I wouldn’t mind
repainting your whole room
to the shade of the wings
of the butterflies that you give me.
But I refuse to be somebody
you rely on more than you
love. I will not be the eraser
at the end of your pencil,
or the silhouette on the crosswalk
sign; I will be your priority,
not your lifeline. I will be the
sunset you watch, not
the bed of sand you’ll sit on,
reminding you that I’ll be gone
if you don’t catch me.
What is it exactly that I miss—
Could it be the way you made me feel inadequate?
If I were a wicker basket, you unwove my fibers and told me to grow back into a tree, so at least I could give you food instead of something to hold it in
Could it be the way that I couldn’t be myself around you, careful to press the right buttons?
Trudging through piercing hail stones that resembled your cold heart, when all I wanted was a warm shelter in the crook of your neck, but you pushed me out into the storm because you didn’t think it would hurt me
Or perhaps it was the way you used my body…?
I feel like that tissue she uses every night to take off the seven layers of her caked face; sadly, she will never be sweet
Or maybe it was the way you broke promise after promise?
You were worse than the boy who cried wolf, because you also cried sorry more times than you left me. What you didn’t know was that I’m a woman of my word, unlike you— if I leave, I’ll never come back, and maybe that’s why I’m afraid to go to Oakland, because my heart knows I’ll never return.
So tell me,
What is it exactly do I miss?
Counting down the days
’til I no longer have to see your face
do you understand, that i am jealous of the snooze button of the alarm clock that gets to touch your fingertips first every morning?
Funny how life revolves around the number twelve
Numbers in a clock,
Hours in a time period,
Months in a calendar.
I would include twelve eggs in a standard carton,
But some people are vegan.
And this is the twelfth week
My wounds are just about healed
Soon enough they’ll turn into the scabs that I will scrub off for good
And the scars will be constant reminders
Never to let myself get hurt like that again
I believe in twelve… after twelve always comes something new.
I’m almost there.
The myocardium, commonly called the heart,
Is a tenacious, unyielding machine that never rests
It pumps 1,900 gallons of blood each day
Which is approximately 230,000 tons in an average person’s lifetime
That’s 23 Eiffel towers
1,150 blue whales
Or 4 billion of me
I didn’t need a cardiologist nor a mathematician to explain to me
The magnitude of the heart’s strength
And if a muscle the size of a fist that lives inside of me can do all of that,
Then surely I can be strong enough
To overcome all the shit you put me through.
I like to think that my varicose veins
is the map of highways
that will lead me to you
I can only imagine a tenth of
how pleasant you’d be (your smile)
(And maybe, just maybe… you’ll like mine too)
You were full of apologies on print
And I had dozens of books
Filled with your sorries
But I never read them through
Because I already knew
How each one would end.