Note on Love (of course)

Original date: Sat Aug. 21, 2010

For a while, too long of a while I lost site of what it felt to like someone.
And during that long while I also forgot everything I deserved as a person.
I am very self concious. I wake up on some days, and feel as though,
everything that hasn't gone right in my life, is my fault.
What did I do wrong here? What did I do wrong there?
Maybe I'm looking in the wrong place? Maybe I'm meant to fuck up?
Like him, and her, and them.

And all it took was a simple reminder today. A simple reminder.
A simple reminder of genuinely liking someone to understand it all, once again.
To understand such a simple concept, that has been lost for far too long.
Spending time. Enjoying someone else's company.
Someone who can make you laugh, and give you butterflies.
Someone who you can sit and tell stories, you don't tell anyone else.
Someone who enjoys your attention, and your company
And not just sit with you for a couple of hours in hopes to get in your pants right after.

And don't get me wrong, I am definately not a mind reader.
And I am not an expert at reading guys.
Who knows, the whole time he looked me in the eyes
he could've been trying to picture me naked, staring up at him.
But my point is, that I felt something I haven't felt in a while.
In a long while.

I have felt so hopeless sometimes
that I go on dates with guys who I am not even attracted to.
And yes, I know I am young, I'm looking at this all wrong.
But it is human nature to want attention from the opposite sex.
It is human nature to want to give, and receive nurture.
I simply, had noone to give or receive.
Therefore, settled for less.
Settled for no butterflies,
for fake laughs
and no peace
inside.

Today doors opened for me.
These doors were covered in cobwebs, and dirt.
Much more than a simply paper towel could handle.
I felt something I felt before, something that I thought
could only be felt once, and thought it was limited to childhood.

It's not about finding a perfect person you know.
It's not about finding someone who fits your hand like a glove.
It's not finding someone who is like you.

It's finding someone who enjoys you, as much as you enjoy them.
Someone who sees you as beaufitul, right after you wake up.
Before the showers, before the make-up, before the expensive clothes.
Someone who loves you, before they have been in bed with you.
And yes, I learned, no sex before tying the knot,
is like buying a toy, without trying it out.
But I'm only referring to dating at the moment.

Sometimes people get really lucky, and meet their soul mates.
There will be no question, anywhere in your mind when you meet him/her.
But your soul mate, isn't always your one.
Sometimes your soul mate comes in, and comes out, the same way.
Maybe for a long period of time, sometimes, we're not so lucky.

We take this, and be smart about it.
We take what we learned, and we put it to play.

For those who have been in love once,
and don't know how the Hell, youre gonna get up.
It'll come along, trust me ;)

Be patient.

And for my wonderful companion of the day,
You gave me butterflies, today couldn't have been anymore perfect.
Thank you so much xoxoxo
(inspiration, from "Juno" the movie, and "Eat Pray Love" the book, and of course, my date)

Love without Boobs

She cried herself to sleep that night, but who would understand
Could you look her in the eyes, would you somehow just, begin?
Underneath her sundress, same dress she wore that morning.
There they sat, innocent, oblivious. It came with no warning.

The tears dwelled in her eyes, as she regretted her every wish,
It seemed to her like nothing but an experiment in a Petri dish.
Mom says tomorrow, it will be alright, but her scars, say otherwise
A curse handed down; a million lies, used as their disguise.

She thought back to last week, Aaron stared at her from across the room
She felt herself growing weak, he'll be asking for my number real soon.
She turned away, but wasn't mistaken as she saw his figure from the corner of her eye
A million thoughts rushed through her head that day; felt something between her thighs.

Less than twenty minutes later, that same girl sat in the girls restroom stall,
She cried asking God to please make it all go away. She was his thrall.
It didn’t take long, no, no. God granted her wish, he did the best that he could.
The nightmare began here; down on her knees wishing she somehow misunderstood.

Mammograms on day one, an ultrasound the next, a CT scan here, PET scan to be sure
The minutes went by ever so slowly, crawling and biting at her skin, everything a blur.
The word mastectomy rang in her head like the bells of a church, the hour has struck
They spoke to mama, about therapy, about time, about love, who gives a fuck!

Maybe I should’ve told Aaron, I am a proud owner of a DD, taking a look down
My nipples sort of remind me of your puppies’ nose; small, and brown.
Did you want to touch them, here and now? We could take a quick break from class
Like I told you, I am proud… I am happy…of them, my breasts, before they were broken like glass

Ilusion de Un Beso

Foreword: When I thought of this poem, everything came to me in spanish, so when I sat down to write it, I started to translate all my words into English. I began to write, "Illusion of a Kiss" and it just didn't sound right. I have decided to leave it in spanish. I will try and give the best translation I can, but I guarantee you, it is so much yummier in spanish. ENJOY!
Ilusion de un Beso

Antes de amarte,
pense en besarte.

Me soñe esa noche
en tantas maravillas,
me hice tantas ilusiones

La mas bella,
siendo, tus labios.

Me ilucione
tus manos sobre mi cuerpo,
la derecha sobre la piel
de mi cadera izquierda
la izquierda sosteniendo tu peso contra la pared.

Me contaste un cuento, una historia
de cuando, hace años te enamoraste
pero al encontrar que estabas solo,
le corriste al amor, al compromise, y a la lealtad.

Me pediste que no te uyera
que te habias dado cuenta
que las cosas, pasan por alguna razon
y el destino, te habia traido aqui, al lado mio

No se que me llevo
si fue la noche, calma y soltera
o tu mirada placentera

Pero con mi mirada, te regale
mis secretos, te abri puertas
que hace mucho tiempo habia cerrado

Espero que entiendas, que no tengo mucho
que lo mas valioso que tengo son mis palabras,
que lo mas valioso que tengo es mi amor,
Y te lo entrego.

Y quien sabra

Quizas mañana,
me estaras amando, al igual que yo a ti.
Quizas mañana,
te este regalando lo que tengo, al igual que tu.

Y quien sabra

Quizas mañana,
ni me conoceras, no te recordaras de este momento
Quizas mañana,
le diras lo mismo, a otra persona

La vida te da chances,
Y es tu llamada

Quizas mañana no te acuerdes de mi
Quizas mañana, cuando mencionen mi nombre

Temblara tu cuerpo,

Pensaras en un beso

En esa noche

Y en esa muchacha

Horrid Story of Love

It has been a while since I wrote on here, anything new anyway.
Its actually been a while since I wrote to myself, journal wise.
I mean, I have sat down, to write.
And I have wrote many things.

But no honest things.

Nothing from the heart.

Just lies. Lies. Lies.
In other words,
Facts.

The things that are happening every day.
When I am wake, when I am walking.
When I am doing the every day things.

I am a very happy person you know
And I like most of the people I meet.
But not too many people really sit down
and get to know me.

I mean, I have friends.
But over the years,
I feel as though,
I have shared, less and less of me
As I go.

Who knows, maybe its the past experiences
Maybe its supposed to happen this way.

Anyway, very few know.
The real thing.

So maybe,
I can take a few minutes,
and let you in on a little secret.

Shhhh, I'll tell you
Only if you keep reading, quietly.

A long time ago.
Long, long time ago.
(Seeing how I am in my 10's.
Wish November would hurry
so that could sound normal
and I could simply say, "20's").

I fell in Love.

This Love was the inspiration
for every single one of my poems.
Now some people know this, some do not.

Someone once told me
they could hear the sincerity in my words
when I spoke of him,
and although I never said, this one's about him,
They knew, because of that gentle song I sang
When I spoke of him.

Anyway, like every love story,
he lifted me off my feet,
and with his hand in mines,
taught me how to fly.

Made me feel safe,
when I flew right above water,
so close to it, it brushed
the tips of my hair like the wind.

Now before you get ahead of yourself,
this is not a happily ever after story,
actually my story ends dark, and ugly.

So dark.
So ugly.

I did everything in my power
to take this love story,
and flip it upside down.

That is exactly what I did,
flipped it upside down.

I then squeezed it,
stomped on it,
sent it soaring through the window
after I viciously hit it with my brothers bat.

And then there were the leftovers.

Black eyes, broken bones, shattered intestines,
and two brutally disintegrated hearts.

I can't tell you exactly how many tears I cried
But the accumulation could've been
your summer pool,
Cleaned and drained. Daily.

Now what does a smart person do at this point?

I don't know

Whatever it is they do, it's not what I did.
I got up the next day,
and everything was fine.

I laughed, and laughed.
I danced, and danced.
I told stories, and more stories.

Until I ran out of stories,
that didn't include him.

And suddenly,it hit me.

I felt my heart, being torn in two
with one of those loud machines
that they use to cut off the big trees
you know the old, fat trees.
And the men with goggles.

I felt as he was being torn, from inside of me.
As if those wings he had made for me
were being ripped from my back

I felt it all

No anesthesia
No narcotic pain reliever

Just me, on my bedroom floor

Me, and that thing, that nasty thing
Tearing me in two

And I, with no scape
I can't tell you how I bared the pain
But I can show you the scars
Maybe then you can try and imagine.

Gruesome.

Gruesome were the lies that came after that.
I continued. Said I was fine.

Who cares. Noone knew.
There was noone to explain it to.
Noone who called and asked.
That made it easier huh?

Maybe.

Quien sabra.

The days passed, the months.

I felt fine, said I, 3 months later.
I picked up, where I left off,
2 years before.

I made friends. I went to parties.
I learned about the real world, outside of home.
I payed bills, worked a 9-5
Read about Erikson's Trust vs Mistrust
About Chris McCandless trip to Alaska
About polynomial, exponential and logarithmic functions
And, I stopped writing.

I stopped writing because I couldn't find what to write about
What could I possibly write about?
And when I got desperate?

I asked me,
Where do I find the beauty I found in him?
How do I find, what I saw in him,
somewhere else?

And so I looked. And I looked.
I attempted.

The worst poem, I had ever written.
The worst lines ever combined
in the english language.

And that's all that was until now.

That's all that it was until now.

That's all it was, until I can,

Be honest with me.

That's all it was,

Until I can confess,

That I haven't healed.

No.

I've been lying to you, my reader.

I said, for you to know my pain,
I would show you my scars.

I don't have any.

My back is still dripping,
Hoping my wings will grow back.
My bones? I haven't been able to walk.

And so here it is.

Now you know a little of me.
A small part of what I have become to be.

And don't worry, friend, I'll be fine.

I know what that once you lose touch,
You must listen to your heart.
And that there is little magic left here,
because we are all scared of being alone,
and so we settle for something
that will keep us company.

And that's what keeps me strong

Knowing that, although I've been hurt,
I will not stop believing
in finding someone

who makes you feel like you're flying,
so high you can touch the sky
and your hair, is tangled up in the clouds.

Until next time,


Have a good night.

Today I began to think about tears:
Can a person cry, on top of a cry? I mean like, its not exactly considered "I'm still crying", or "I'm crying again" But another level of crying? Like a cry, on top of another cry, and the levels just keep going up, although you can't tell by the many tears? Or how long they've been running down someone's cheeks?...Can you tell which level of tears someone is crying, if they cry in your eyes? If they cry in their words?

Pablo Neruda's, "Tonight I Can Write"

Today I went to the library here in Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri with hopes of finding some good poetry, or something to open the doors to my inspiration. It worked. I found a couple of Pablo Neruda's books, and was forced to pick only two. I bought the books home, and the very first one I chose to read, amazed me; as has most of his work, but this particular one, sort of moved me. And so, I am sharing it with anyone who follows my blog. Enjoy Pablo Neruda's, "Tonight I Can Write"

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night, whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through night like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Sister Time