personal, poetry, thoughts

I Am Not Like My Mother

I’m not like my mother
The perfect wife of an absent man
The present parent to the one off-duty
The caretaker, the homemaker.

I am not like my mother
To wait nights up alone wondering where he’s gone
To spend days questioning if she’s done something wrong
To fake a smile going to gatherings alone.

I am not like my mother.

I am
Continue reading “I Am Not Like My Mother”

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personal, ramblings, thoughts

Jazz Bands and Pole Fitness

And here it happens again. After a lot of heated love-giving that had been going on around here, I completely neglected my relationship with my blog (and my only creative outlet for the time being) because I took it for granted and wanted to have some fun around. In fact, I neglected it almost as much as I have neglected myself.

Thinking about the past two and a half months puts me in a state of raw panic because I have absolutely no idea where all the 101,969 minutes went. Like seriously, no clue. Even my planner cannot keep up with the pace of the Earth spinning. I feel like there’s a cosmic conspiracy to speed up our revolution around the Sun because there has been so much $#%! going on around here that it feels kinda obliged to make more time pass by before the next catastrophe strikes. Or it just wants to see if the hideous Mexican wall will be visible from space. #whoknows

Continue reading “Jazz Bands and Pole Fitness”

inspirational, poetry

Boys

Sad-girl-foot-in-water-black-and-white-300x250.jpg

To the boy who wanted to have a fling.

My body has been through wars and survived.
It has fought battles it was never supposed to.
Lovers tried to conquer this body and left.
Never making it a home.
Bleeding,
Leaving bruises in my soul that I’m still struggling to heal.
I have fallen for boys who would love with half hearts.
Unable to love themselves.
Or maybe, loving themselves too much.
But everything is a lesson. Continue reading “Boys”

personal, thoughts

Maybe

you give yourself
wearing your heart on your sleeve,
a love that you pick
from your pockets like a thief;

where does it all go?
no love comes back you know, 


you turn empty slowly,
afraid of things, you can’t keep track,
knowing what you give freely
you most certainly will never get back; 

but every single time,
some part of you starts
believing:  

maybe this time it will work
maybe this time they won’t leave me.