Posts Tagged ‘text’

all the lost things


all i wanted was for you to mark me. i wanted you to bare your teeth at me and bite me, bruise my skin in black and blue from my neck to my thighs, and my spine. i wanted you to have me whole, to claim me as some ancient thing from immemorial times. i wanted you to grab me, put your arms around me, encase me.
(i always liked your weight on me.)

i wanted you to write on me so i could tattoo over the words and keep you on me at all times, so i could always touch with my fingertips what i meant to you, all those sweet things – i wouldn’t even regret it after everything was over between us.
(it would inevitably be over.)

“would you want to look forever at it? for other people to see it? why would you want to have it? it was never meant to be!” you’d ask me [if we still spoke to one another]. you’d call me mad, for sure, and hopeless and strange.

but really, how could i mind? how worse can it be to show on the outside what i somehow still feel? how can words to the world be any worse than the thoughts i carry in my head everyday, then the memories everyone has in their souls?

(it’s not painful. here, look at all these poems i already made for you. it is a process.)

a tattoo, in the end, is just a picture: a remembrance of a thing that will always be, a past that was a promise of everything, something i want to show everyone because, wether it failed or not, wether you like it or not, talk about it or not, it is part of who i am. your past is my past.
(the threads of our lives are entwined. bygones are bygones, but it’s all a happy place now, a cozy home where we once lived in.)

i am not ashamed and neither should you be. i like who i am becoming, and you have a share in it. accept it.
(write to me. let’s talk.)




i was silent and pliant, so they ate me up and spit me out, broken and fucked up. i did not protest, so they ground me up on their sharp walls, crushed me in their relentless engines. they steamrolled my in their asphalt of lies and corruption, and never once i stood up.

i always obeyed, blind; i never fought.

i also did not say a single thing when they took my neighbor, and my daughter; not much later, they took me. i didn’t resist, i didn’t open my mouth. they isolated me, then, filled me with fears, deflated my hopes, took away my rights, my decency.

they stole my humanity by exploiting my cowardliness, my carelessness, my apathy.

so, when I was left in the cold, dark bottom, it was too late; no one could finally hear me scream.



“it’s your responsibility now/4am texts”

look at these loving words I have for you, at this marvelous admiration I crafted for your eyes only. here, have them.choose what you want do to with them, for I don’t care as long as you have them – that was my purpose. to create them, to remove them from inside my heart and give them to you. now, they are yours and yours only, and I promise you that they will never be given or repeated to anyone else in no context the same.

if you don’t want them, throw them away. don’t tell me, don’t explain yourself – I’ll need no apologies for something of your ownership now. if you find them common, boring, unsolicited – think of them simple, toss them! but remember they are uniquely strung together for you.



my bus took a wrong turn today and once again I believed in fate.

due to this mishap, it took me to a parallel street that I haven’t walked down in years. just below the favela, the large avenue extended before me, busy with rush-hour traffic. I crossed amid the cars on a mission… only to find myself at gate 7, the exit where I religiously accompanied you to, night after night, at 10:30 p.m. so home you’d go for the day.

coincidentally, today a mellow, sickeningly sweet melody streamed into my ears through my headphones: a song I don’t seem to know or remember. a powerful memory it brought up, though, as well as goosebumps to my soul, which was already moved.

however, the tree whose trunk I used to be excited to see and to press your body against as I fervently kissed your mouth was, strangely, unlit. a burnout lamp, a blown fuse, I don’t know. all I could see was the bench underneath the heavy canopy of the trees, where we laughed and cried and many times shared hopes, stories and dreams, was also engulfed in the leaves’ shadows, illuminated only by the moon. a sliver of silver shown through the holes, and that was it. I thought it really fitting for the occasion, for just as the path our relationship followed, that little gate that I used to dread seeing (for it meant that we’d have to part ways at last) was also dark.

a security guard standing nearby yawned in his boredom, in slow-motion, as like the years had not really passed, as everything had not really changed – as life was a still of an unchanged past.

little does he know…

I yawned back, by reflex. then followed my way home.