__

I won’t beg someone to love me. I learned long ago that there is no use in hopeless pleas of trying to make someone stay. I am too good to chase someone who does not know my worth and I am too wild to keep waiting for someone who doesn’t acknowledge my value. I want to be loved unconditionally. I shouldn’t have to fight so hard for it. I do not have the time to prove to someone that I am worth it. I shouldn’t have to prove any of that; I am worth more than that.

Hell

is loving you in my sleep

But waking up alone 

el

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Yo lo quise, y avecs, el también me quiso.

Ya no lo quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez lo quiero.

Es tan corto el amor y tan largo el olvido. 

Porque en noches como ésta lo tuve entre mis brazos,

mi alma no se contenta con haberlo perdido.

Aunque éste sea el último dolor que el me causa,

y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

manos

Ahora que sobrevivo sin tus ojos
sencillamente porque
no estás aquí para mirarme,
recurro a mis bolsillos
y descubro que guardo en ellos
todavía el calor
de tus manos

Iyanla Vanzant

“When the time comes for you to make a change, to grow, to do your life in a different way, the universe will make you so uncomfortable, so unhappy, you will eventually have no choice. If you insist on staying in a place you no longer belong in, if you do not grow the courage to do what is necessary to propel yourself forward, you will suffer the consequences, whatever they may be."

luv

I feel small 

So tiny 

So insignificant 

Think about

Our Earth 

Our galaxy

Our universe 

So vast 

beyond our understanding

Too immense to comprehend

But I know 

que mi dios 

made everyone with purpose 

How do we

As specks in the universe

Find our calling

Find our reason for creation

Maybe it is not just one reason 

Maybe it's a series 

of your actions throughout life

Each of which

Impact other humans

Being kind to strangers 

Doing only good onto others

Helping friends through dark times

Sending out good vibes 

If we gave out all of our love,

If we could go up to him,

at the gates of heaven

We would say,

"I used all the love you gave me" 

Love does not shrink

if you give it away

Instead it multiplies 

And spreads 

waves

Missing you comes in waves

Tonight, I'm drowning

Pablo Neruda

SI TÚ ME OLVIDAS

QUIERO que sepas
una cosa.

Tú sabes cómo es esto:
si miro
la luna de cristal, la rama roja
del lento otoño en mi ventana,
si toco
junto al fuego
la impalpable ceniza
o el arrugado cuerpo de la leña,
todo me lleva a ti,
como si todo lo que existe,
aromas, luz, metales,
fueran pequeños barcos que navegan
hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan.

Ahora bien,
si poco a poco dejas de quererme
dejaré de quererte poco a poco.

Si de pronto
me olvidas
no me busques,
que ya te habré olvidado.

Si consideras largo y loco
el viento de banderas
que pasa por mi vida
y te decides
a dejarme a la orilla
del corazón en que tengo raíces,
piensa
que en ese día,
a esa hora
levantaré los brazos
y saldrán mis raíces
a buscar otra tierra.

Pero
si cada día,
cada hora
sientes que a mí estás destinado
con dulzura implacable.
Si cada día sube
una flor a tus labios a buscarme,
ay amor mío, ay mío,
en mí todo ese fuego se repite,
en mí nada se apaga ni se olvida,
mi amor se nutre de tu amor, amado,
y mientras vivas estará en tus brazos
sin salir de los míos.

song

song

sunday

sunday; sun rays cutting through my blinds, minor hangover, to create is to destroy, fingertips on piano keys, avocado on toast, writing letters i will most likely never send, less thoughts of you, cool nights, specks of white flickering in the sky, this is not the end

kinda girl

I am the kind of girl that you take home to meet your mom

and she loves me

when you are mean to me

and lose me,

she will ask why I’m not around

did she ever do that before?

with your ex-girlfriend for

she makes you feel like shit anyways

and the reason why you stopped being on your phone

all the damn time

trying to flirt with someone you hardly even know

to fill a void

I won’t stay long

I’m not the kind of girl

who gets caught in a web

with someone who doesn’t look towards the future

than with someone who always puts me second (never again)

and I am not to be pushed to the side

I am not an option

I am all or nothing

does that intimidate you?

that makes you wonder why you didn’t look more carefully at the sky

before you met me

(maybe I will)

and the kind of girl who is terrified of you

because she doesn’t know how to let someone in

because I like your mom too and I don’t want

her to text me six months from now saying

it had been a pleasure to know me

and she wishes I was still around

I am the kind of girl that you give up the late night text messages

but if you don’t drop that for me

I am the kind of girl who would rather be alone

I am the kind of girl

you probably trust me

and think I could complete you

Quiero

Un "Buenos días" 

Un beso

Y un café 

Un "Buen provecho" 

Un par de risas 

Y un té

Un "¿Como te fue?"

Una caricia 

Y un vino

Un "Descansa"

Una mirada 

Y un te amo 

april ninth

Growing up I thought being in love was red roses, dates on Saturday nights, pretty jewelry, Friday night movie premiers, kisses in the rain, and boxes that held expensive things. I thought true love was a story with a picture perfect ending. Now that I’m older I’ve realized it’s not that at all. True love isn’t something you find in a Disney movie. Being in love is screaming at 5 AM till you cry out of anger, but knowing they won’t leave. It’s saving each other’s selfies, good or bad, just to look at them because you miss each other. It’s being comfortable enough to talk about anything. It’s saying all the wrong things at the wrong moments. It’s leaving someone in complete control of your heart, but trusting them not to break you. It’s screaming the lyrics to your favorite songs together. It’s honesty even when it hurts and sarcasm when they’re sad. It’s lame jokes and sleepless nights. It’s fights and make up sex. It’s hour long showers and breakfast in the morning. It’s all night phone calls instead of texting. It’s the small things. It’s coffee shop dates and finding new books to read. It’s holding hands and kissing ever so passionately. It’s being able to sit at home just basking in the presence of someone you love with every fiber of your being. It’s wanting to share every moment with that one person. It’s finding yourself awake at 3 AM craving them asleep next to you. It’s little nick names and making fun of each other. It’s being called things like ‘little shit’ or ‘baby’ or ‘love of my life.’ It’s being able to fall asleep knowing that person will still be there in the morning. It’s being apart and knowing nothing will change. It’s deep talks at 6 AM. It’s days full of laughter and tears. It’s capturing the world’s beauty though their eyes. It’s not about the sex or the gifts, it’s about finding someone who pours their love into your deepest cracks making you whole once again. It’s feeling part of you missing when you’re apart. It’s finally being able to love yourself even half as much as that person loves you. Love is the only thing left in the world worth fighting for. Don’t you dare settle for a boy who makes you feel good for a night, or a girl who boosts your ego at a party. Mindfucking love is the holy grail of all love. Being in love will fuck you up in more ways than you can imagine and it’s absolutely fucking heart-wrenching, but at the same time it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

4/6

I am an ocean


Fluid and changing

You are a mountain


Constant and sure

And no matter how many times

my waves try to push you away


You stay


And you stay


And you stay

Winston Churchill

"We are masters of the unsaid words. But slaves of those we let slip out."

april third

I keep writing about you.
They tell me my words are beautiful.
I don’t know why.
Maybe because they’re written for you,
you’re beautiful.
But what they don’t know,
what you don’t know,
Is that I stare at this blank fucking paper
and all I feel is rage,
anger and frustration.
Because I write down these things
and it never comes close to what I feel.
But if actions could be translated to words,
I would write me shouting in my fucking car.
Because your favorite song came up on my god damned pandora station again.
I would write me standing in the shower while the scolding water burns my skin
as I try to think of the exact moment i lost you.
And then I would write me shutting off the water
in total defeat.
Because I realize I never even had you.
I would write how a fire starts in my chest
whenever I see a picture of you.
And I would write how my eyes burn
as I continue to stare at the goddamn ceiling at 3am missing you.
Being up that late was only fun when you were around.

I wish you were still around…

I don’t even know how to fucking end this.
There’s no poetic way to say I feel like fucking shit.

the well and the wisher

You’re back again, and I’ve forgotten 

everything I’ve learned in your 

absence.


I give you my knees, my thighs, my hands,


and you take them because you think I know better now.


This is the problem.


I disappear inside of you and make 


you fish me back out when it’s all over.


I rename myself Lonely so that when


you come along, I forget what it means.


This is the problem.


I don’t know how to keep myself


when you’re around.


I don’t know how to let love inside and follow after it.


I don’t know how to keep the keys.


So if I ever tell you that I still haven’t
figured out how to kiss like I’m not 


giving something away, don’t laugh. 


Don’t tell me I’m being dramatic or 

that my poet is showing.


I am an empty bed for you, do you understand? 


I am a vacant hand, open and silent and begging.


I am a broken record that will only

sing your name 


and it isn’t pretty, 


the way I give myself, my magic away  like it is nothing.


It isn’t pretty at all

11:22//11:26

i want to cut my hair and smoke my lungs out. i want to play loud music and drink so much i forget how to breathe. i want the world to stop spinning for just one goddamn second. it doesn’t even have to be a second, a quarter of a second would be nice. i want to delete everything of yours from everything of mine. i want to sit on a bus and tell my whole life story to the first stranger that smiles at me. and then leave. i want to remember what it feels like to feel without wanting to build a fortress around me. i want someone to look me in the eye and tell me the truth about everything and anything. i want to not be so fucking scared. all the time. i want to not hurt for one whole minute. just one minute, what’s sixty seconds in the grand scheme of things anyway. i want to remember what it feels like to be twelve and in love for the first time. do you remember what that was like? i want to sleep until the moment before forever. i want to get so close to the feeling of forever that i can taste it on my tongue, feel it on my skin, see it with my own eyes, just to see if it’s worth it. i want you to know how much you mean to me and i’m sorry for all the times i stopped myself from telling you. i want to re-live the best moments in my life so far just so i can remind myself that good things do and will happen. i want to kiss death on the forehead and tell him i’m not just ready yet. i want to kiss the universe on the cheek and tell her thank you for always being here, thank you for reminding me how much i love to be alive

4/1

I want to meet someone who makes me feel the way music does

my home

I need to write about this before I forget it. This happened today at work and it was so surprisingly touching it overwhelmed me with emotions. 

My grandma just left for Cuba yesterday so it's been on my mind lately. Today at work these two girls about my age in scrubs looked really lost so I asked them if they needed help finding anything. They had broken English and tried to describe paper cups to me. When I was taking them there I overheard them speaking in Spanish behind me. So in Spanish, I asked them where they were from. When they said Cuba I just felt my heart melt away. One of them was from Santiago de Cuba and another one was from Oriente. A few decades ago Cuba was divided into three large sections, one of them being Oriente. Where I'm from, Cueto, is in Oriente. When I told the girl I was from Cueto it was like this immediate connection... As if we had known each other for years. We gave each other a big hug and then we all talked about how much we missed it and for how long we've been in the states. The one from Oriente had been here 6 years and the other girl 10. I was genuinely so proud of them for coming so far and being so successful because their scrubs said they were in the college of dentistry at UF. Things have been so shitty lately that it was so overwhelming having a little taste of home. I wrote a poem about home about a month ago not really knowing where my home was. But now I've realized I have many homes but they're all in Cuba. 

On my cousin Lucia's porch drinking mint shots with all of the cousins telling stories about adventures we've gotten into.

On my grandpa's roof looking up at the stars talking with him about life as the clothes hanging from a line blew in the summer breeze. 

In Havana with my favorite cousin, Carlos, drinking rum out of coconuts with fancy little straws laughing with the cute neighbor in the middle of June. 

Walking to my Grandma's house and everyone I walk by saying hello to me because some how or another they recognize me. 

Going out at night with my cousins to the pueblo and eating cotton candy while reaggeton blasts throughout the town center and everyone's dancing and having a good time. 

Exploring around the fancy resort by myself and going to unmapped territory with nothing but my camera and the sun setting above me. 

Crossing the railroad tracks with my mom and uncle and cousins to go visit my great grandma, Mama, even though there's a high chance she won't remember us at that instant. 

I wish someone could understand the immense craving I have to feel at home all the time. To be there all the time. To be surround by the constant love and affection that I can only feel from being in Cuba. To be so relaxed and happy. It's so different. Here you walk down the street and you look at your phone to avoid eye contact with that stranger walking by you. There, chances are you know that person. I'm grateful that I was able to come to a place where I have so many chances to be anything I want to be. But a life living in debt to the government working a 9-5 cookie cutter job is not the life for me. 

perro

I think I've been wanting a dog so bad lately because I crave someone to love me unconditionally. Puppies are always so happy and loving. I read somewhere that dogs may be only a part of your life but for them you are their entire life. My biggest hesitation is the time and commitment it takes to train and take care of and give enough attention to a puppy. Humans should be more like dogs. Dogs are loyal and loving and forgiving and smart and trainable. Dogs are perfect. I want all of the dogs in the world. I don't need anyone else when I've got a pup. 

miracle?

Look around at what you have. And close your eyes. And think about the other things you have. You can't see anything worth having with your eyes open anyway. It doesn't matter how you found them, and it doesn't matter how long you hold on to them. The best and the brightest and the warmest things end eventually, you don't have any control over that. But you have them now and that means something, in its own quiet way, that is the miracle.

"The Awful Truth" by Beau Taplin

“One day, whether you

are 14, 
28 
or 65

you will stumble upon
someone who will start
a fire in you that cannot die.

However, the saddest, 
most awful truth 
you will ever come to find––

is they are not always
with whom we spend our lives.

”

mouthful of forever

"I am not the first person you loved.


You are not the first person I looked at


with a mouthful of forevers. We 


have both known loss like the sharp edges


of a knife. 

We have both lived with lips


more scar tissue than skin. Our love 

came


unannounced in the middle of the 

night.


Our love came when we’d given up


on asking love to come. I think


that has to be part


of its miracle.

This is how we heal.


I will kiss you like forgiveness. You


will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms


will bandage and we will press 

promises


between us like flowers in a book.


I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat


on your skin. I will write novels to the 

scar


of your nose. I will write a dictionary


of all the words I have used trying


to describe the way it feels to have 

finally,


finally found you.

And I will not be afraid


of your scars.

I know sometimes


it’s still hard to let me see you


in all your cracked perfection,


but please know:


whether it’s the days you burn


more brilliant than the sun


or the nights you collapse into my lap


your body broken into a thousand questions,


you are the most beautiful thing."

high koo

“I have looked at you


in millions of ways and


I've loved you in each"

uno

La vieja mano


sigue trazando versos


para el olvido

La triste luna


me sigue recordando 


no te olvido

important

1. When a boy who leaves goosebumps on every inch of your skin tries to play you his favorite song, don’t let him. He’ll get it stuck in your head and under your fingertips and when he leaves, you won’t be able to listen to it without feeling like you’re choking.

2. Don’t let him touch you all over no matter how much you want to feel him against you. Leave a few spots untouched so that when you’re sleeping alone again, at least your left wrist and an inch of your right hip won’t sting with the remaining burn of his mouth. 

3. Don’t let him break your ribs.

4. Don’t watch the sunset with him. He’ll poison it. You won’t be able to look at the sky without swallowing a mouthful of him.

5. Don’t mistake wasps for butterflies. Sometimes when you feel your stomach flutter and your hands start to shake it’s pain, not love.

6. Just because he tells you he loves you doesn’t mean he’s going to stay.

7. It’s okay to delete his number after he kisses the pretty girl he met when he was drunk. It’s okay to leave when he hurts you. You don’t have to keep falling into him.

8. When he tells you that you’re beautiful, try to remember that you were beautiful before him too.

9. Just because he reads and smokes cigarettes and talks about the stars doesn’t mean he’s your soulmate.

10. After you kiss him, remember to wash your mouth out right away so he doesn’t burn into your tongue. 

11. He’ll kiss you in the rain and take you to little coffee shops. He’ll brush your hair out of your eyes and kiss your nose. He’ll grab your waist and whisper in your ear but six months later you’ll find yourself drunk texting him that you miss him and he won’t respond.

12. Your heart is going to break a million times. It’s going to feel like the world is falling apart around you. Your lungs will stop working some nights. You find yourself grabbing at your bones trying to hold yourself together. You’re going to feel like you’re dying. It’s going to be okay. You’ll find someone else to kiss you goodnight

...

You're my waking moment, I'm your second thought.

love

I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words.

rain

I tried to be a rainbow in your sky of dark clouds

But you wanted nothing of the sort

So I was only a few raindrop on a sunny day,

Not much to affect you

But enough to be a noticable nuisance 

And that, 

I think,

Was our downfall. 

2.8.14

its funny how i never know the right words to say to you, but i could tear down an entire forest writing about how much i loved you

home

To find where you belong 

is not to find where you fit in.

It is to find your home.

Home is not a place, 

or a destination,

or a journey,

or a building.

Home could be

a person,

a touch,

a feeling,

a moment,

a sweet disposition.

Home is where

the sky meets the ocean

and the wind blows

through your hair.

Home is when 

you feel safe,

perfectly content

and reassured.

Home is easy. 

Once you find it,

you just know.

Home is not forced,

nor troublesome.

Home is peaceful.

You cannot search

for your one true home.

Your home finds you.

Unfortunately,

we unknowingly 

confuse our home

for a feeling of comfort,

familiarity,

a fleeting rush of excitement.

And we spend

the rest of our lives

trying to get back to it again.

Too wrapped up

too realize 

that we need to let go.

Too busy searching

for something that

was long gone

the moment it left

Too occupied

with holding onto 

the past,

to make room 

for the future.

Not knowing,

that all the while,

home was passing you by.

you

Stop acting


so fucking wounded.


The only person

that can pick you up,


push back your shoulders,


wipe the tears,


mend the broken bones


and get you out of your slump


is you.


Now go and live,


there is so much to be


happy about

baby I'm yours

"Baby, I’m yours til the stars fall from the sky baby,
I’m yours til the rivers all run dry,
Yours til the sun no longer shines"
Arctic Monkeys "Baby I'm Yours"

forever?

“Forever isn’t for everyone. Is forever for you? It sounds like settling down or giving up but it don’t sound much like you girl.”

Arctic Monkeys ‘Snap Out Of It’

from a long time ago

He's a bear. A bear that's stalking me. So I walk faster to try and escape him. eventually I run so far away that I think he's gone; so I put my guard down. I turn around to go home but BAM! There he is again and I can't escape him. I can't escape his laugh when I do something silly. I can't escape the joking tone in his voice when he mocks me. I can't escape his sculpted hands or how he has a little jump in his step after something has made him particularly happy. I can't escape the sadness in his eyes when he looks into mine. I can't escape the trembles that shake my spine, one vertebrae at a time, when he touches me. No matter who I hide behind or what I do to get my mind off of him I can't escape him. But the sad part is that he doesn't even notice what he's doing. I always go back to him to make myself an easy target. I start it, he ends it. He starts it, I never end it. But not this time. I'll start it and I'll make it last as long as it needs to without actually doing anything or falling for his trap. Hopefully. 

I wish I was smart so I could know the correct answer without having to go through trial and error. 

I wish I was sweet enough to please your sweet tooth so we could never get into an argument again. 

I wish I was cunning so I could devise a plan. A plan to break your heart without making mine more vulnerable to your unintentional games.

But I don't want your heart broken. 

I want it on your sleeve

So I can steal it, like you stole mine.

~

He is not a constellation.

You should not wish to be the cigarette touching his lips. 


He will not appear through the fog and heal your wounds.

Only you can do that.


So get out of bed and put on some lipstick.


Stop falling at his feet.


Save yourself.

lost

I used to like losing myself in things until I got lost in you and never came home

change

I realized I was holding onto something that doesn't exist anymore. 
That the person I missed didn't exist anymore.
People change.
The things we like and dislike change.
And we could wish all day long that they didn't, but they always will.

you

I'm not very good 
at a lot of things.

I cannot paint
you pictures
because the beautiful
things in my head
cannot be translated.

Nor can I sing to you,
as my voice has an 
uncanny habit
of falling flat.

Nor can I play for you
as my fingers fumble
when my thoughts
cross over to how
you look, watching me.

But I can brush the
knots out of your hair
and work the knots 
out of your back
when your day
has become too
much to bear.

I'm not good at much,
but I will be good to you. 

intro

I started this in hopes that it will give me some sort of an outlet. A place where my mind could run free and escape the clutter of real life. I always seem to give up on things that could end up being beneficial for me. I think it's because of my tendency to fear commitment of any kind. I have learned that nothing, good or bad, lasts, so why bother getting attached? I'm not going to pretend I'm wise beyond my years or that I know the secret meaning to life of what it's all about. I know nothing and I will not pretend otherwise. This is me, opening up. It is kind of scary: having my thoughts out on the internet for everyone to see. I hope this blog will stay anonymous and my posts won't give away too much of who I am. I just need something to pass the time in an enriching way. Some of these will be my own work but others may just be things that I find and enjoy particularly for whatever reason. I might try to venture out and try to write in different languages. I find that some things are better said in Spanish; the translation doesn't do it justice.

harmful substance

Remember when you used to get talks in school 
about drugs and alcohol 
and other dangerous things
that you were supposed to stay away from?

Well they never told us about
midnights spent with a boy
who makes your pulse race
or the lazy smile
that warms his face when you kiss.

They said they were protecting us against
harmful substances
but they forgot to warn me about you.