Sometimes smiling is the greatest act of defiance, & sometimes asking for help is the most meaningful example of self-reliance. Sometimes the best medicine is to just laugh until you cry, & sometimes the greatest wisdom comes from accepting- you will just never know why..
Sometimes just going to bed is the best antidote to trials and tribulations, & sometimes just being blessed to get up again and face it all, for one more day,
is worthy of celebration.
She’s the places that she has a desire to visit.
She is the pieces of quotes that are splattered in ink in her favorite books.The jumble of notebooks she collects.The melody of words, wishes, and dreams spinning inside her head.
The kisses of the sun disappearing in the horizon at dusk. She is all the little wishes in ‘goodnight’. She is, mesmerized by all the beauty in the souls of people. She loves the way they dance to the rhythms that hit their ears just right.
With this she is some things else.
She is nothing but a random smile on a cloudy day. She is full of dreams. Dreams you would only dare take away. They are strong dreams to keep one going through life’s struggles.
and, I hope they one day come true.
By all means,
Shatt3er the poor thing into a thousand pieces. Right! ‘Cause that is all she is. A thing.
Lets ring her out like a wet cloth! twisting n twisting all the bloody love out of such a young, honest, innocent being.
Lets all just stare and mock her very being. By all mean don’t let something that! Damn Fine, shine like the sun. Let us all pluck every grey feather from this ugly duckling. So she is not able to Sway like the glowing potential she can be.
Why not, leave this beat up soul be? Why keep trampling over this broken body? Why can’t you leave this jaunting bundle of exuberance be..
Why can’t your eyes just watch her lovely smile warm the room, start a fire in your human character..?
Why can’t you let this petite, blooming, Wonder fight her way through the storm.
By all means,
Please feel free to leave her be
Leave me to Flaunt, gambol, romp and revel to my own beat.
Entonces Basta ya!
Tend to your personal trials and tribulations.
Dejarla Ser! Su propio persona.
Dejarla glorificar en su propia cancion.
You, my gentleman, are one of a kind, something that at times seems so unreal. You my gentleman with kind, sweet eyes, gleaming at me. Hushing me to sleep. You my gentleman are one of a kind. Your strong body up against mine, with tender hands wrapped around my stomach, keeping me warm. Morphed together under the starry cool night, Listening to the frogs and crickets hum, so soft and sweet.
The way the sun kissed the earth goodnight, the way I felt that night. The way you carry me softly over to the car and lay me down, for the long drive home. My eyes peek open with you smiling at me, making my heart chuckle. Your eyes winking, making me tremble with absent warmth.
My mind whispers the sacred, committed, eight letters:
‘I love you’
My sweet, lovely gentleman.
With sparkling eyes, a curious smile, a tender heart.
A voice of utter peace
You are a wonderful gentleman to me.
When I write, it is contagious and I can’t stop. I get high. Its uncontrollable. this high.
All the words stuck in a dark cloud up in my head, flowing out of my fingers onto the soft, easy pressing, key board. I get high. Off of the overflowing ideas and similes’ that wash over me like the rough evening tide. I get high. from typing too fst that nothing comes out onto the keyboard right. BUt in my head this all makes senCe. I get high. off of the bottomless kettle of tea that I have spent hours drinking. I get high. ANd because of the indecisive, unstable, silly, passionate high. I don’t sleep. Emotionally and Physically beat. But I get high off of the swarm of words, phrases, and beautifully put sentences flustered up in my unorganized, kind mind. YOu C I just love to write, I get lost, entering a different world where I can’t hear anyone else around me. I am deaf, except for the smooth beats dancing off the record player. I get lost in finding myself. Its a horrible day, all I want to do is run away, with paper and pen. I am a ridiculous, oblivious, blunt, loca, American-Latina: who gets high off mid-summer nights, the symphony of frogs out the porch door, the smell of rain and vibration of thunder in my chest. The over-joyed faces that are utterly passionate about their life, the contagious laughter that makes my cry. I am, A crazy chicana that gets high off of infinite moments and all the beautiful words to remember them by. Y eso es mi vida loca.
You could never pronounce my name right. In your mouth it sounded wrong and sour, making my eyes roll back in my head. Like a piece that tries so hard to fit, but doesn’t quite belong. But I leaned to love it that way, It was the only flaw you had I my eyes. Like you’d taken who I thought I was, And changed it just a tad. You’d whisper it in silence, as the night air sings among the moon n’ stars. Or you’d shout it through the air, Like a swinging, whistling trumpet. A reminder that the love I’d found, was nothing short of rare, Before long you got tired, Of my name’s unpolished sound. And I watched it slip right off your tongue, And shatter on the ground. My name once full of loving smiling eyes. Is just now a broken syllable. And now when people say it right, I don’t react at all.