These Loves I Hate

The black leather notebook Emma gave me

whispers mid sentences in my dreams

it lays sadly without happy stories it seems

like the sorrow of my words drank its life

My batteries are of the rechargeable kind

they come and go as snapshots of my days

flash between my blinking dark eyes

as they skim through all my memories then die

My notebook needs stories to survive

but my selfish mind does not want to write

about this time, about the fading sky

maybe forgetting New York is a sign

I might be missing a part of my soul

I am giving up so much for what I know

I declare war against the heartaches that chase my heel

everything in New York is made of heaviness

An armor, a shield made of steel

Like each aim and goal attained is not real

like the loves I found from this place

are just martyrs to the home I'm trying to replace

His lips like a juicy plum

with blood spilling from his tongue

the pills, like monsters, that feed his unstable brain

I ask myself how I became the one to blame

His timeless face like an endless sea

with deep uneasy wrinkles set around the eyes

the drinks, like daggers, surgically implanted in his hand

I ask myself how I didn't know perfection came as a disguise

Is it an excuse I make for such choking grips?

Am I blinded by my own self worth

enough to not acknowledge my own slips?

Why am I blaming New York for the men I fall in love with?

Or is it the leather book that now stares me in the face?

Those thoughts that I deny myself

Could those have been what brought me down from grace?

Must've been too scared to write about my own mistakes

These loves I hate

I hope New York has more to offer

more than just sexy smells and gorgeous tastes

more than just facades inside heavenly bodies

more than just first kisses at a pier or a park bench

more than just a Jeep Wrangler and a Ducati

more than just the songs from a guitar or a piano

more than just the empty stench of words, words, words…

I hope New York has more to offer

more than just the color hazel

more than just long messy hair

more than just the passion I live for

more than just trains I need to take

more than just bridges so beautiful they look fake

more than all these things that make up my heartbreak

more than just these loves I hate

A Damned Day

As the leaves change
the neon lights flicker like confetti
stuck on windows and corners of tall
iridescent buildings across Manhattan
I remember your eyes
so green that afternoon
staring at nothing
your hands fondling inside your pockets
then you, so indifferently, sat on a dirty park bench
spoke so softly and told me goodbye so nicely
You knew that was the end
Don't pretend to ask for something
you never needed or will long for anymore
Don't turn the memories into shit
by keeping me on a leash
You can find a dog at a pet shop
and personal bitches at filthy brothels
or even at those VIP clubs where you seem to know everybody
for some mysterious reason
where you go to socialize and to think you look cool
to get your ego massaged by money-hungry blood-suckers
Don't you dare ruin my image of you
hiding a ring in your suitcase
the one I hoped would end up on my finger
in a distant far off time and happy place
Such a shame
The man I see today is decayed
like the love-starved bugs infested your mattress
sucked your rich blood dry at night
Your taste curdled in my mouth
clogged like baby milk in my throat
a someone else, without me in your heart
a hidden tear from the very start
But I'll be here
with the bitterness you felt
locked in the dungeons of my anguished core
It's constantly transfused
through the lovemaking we'll never again trade
as the cycle of the moon chokes me with these lonely sighs
your kiss became a carcass stinking up my craved soul
This is all because a long time ago
you buried me with the shovel I handed over to you
That damned day
when I chose to get on that plane
and silently watched you get way
That damned day
when I let you get on that plane
and you silently threw my love away

Because I Can

I look because I can
For you who doesn't love me, I should not offer better words to translate
The pain in which carries me
I cannot explain
I cannot remember

I briefly escape, and found brighter colors wrapped inside your arms
But these words are amatuers dancing in your eyes
This poem with no reach a nuisance to your page
and the languages I speak sound like beggars to your waxy ears
Death haunts me, is that what you want to hear?
The things I say, idiosyncracies to your waxy ears...
These convulsions of my chest and the nightmares that flare
I cannot explain
I cannot remember

I look because I can
and because I am. A ripe enough woman
who is not afraid to care for the peace of knowing
that life exists where I once lived
Even in this death in which we stand next to
when the indifference of my presence
bleeds me to the ground, life resists.
The anchor that burried my first love
is from the same angry ship you sail, the speed
glidding blindly, governing the ocean, frowining
at the light of the moon that shines with your name.

I look because I can
I wish you would swallow me whole
like the hope of life does to death
I am not afraid to hurt
or to get pulled under by this sea of love, drown
along with the ghosts that haunts my dreams
They're the same
somber children at play
laced together by you who doesn't love me
all of which I cannot explain
please, don't make me remember...

Poetry Books

I'm heading for the beach tomorrow.
I want to stare at the ocean
and let its anger stir me senseless.
I want the softness of the sand
to keep my secret treasure:
the first thing I spotted this morning
was a strand of your dark hair
corrupting my white sheets.
I picked it up and made a wish,
I wished your heart would be blessed
with peace and kindness
for I am not into the bitterness you embody.
I want the waves to wash me like a windshield,
make it clear forever more
that the fact that we slept together
under the watch of our poetry books
will take my breath away
and deepen my loving soul
every single time
I pick up a book to read.

Enter

Enter
The canja and cachaca are ready by the fireplace
the sugar cane is cracking by the wood burning stove
the stars like lamps are dim and the night is singing with crickets

Enter
the sexy hand on the small of my back
the cool air makes the road seem endless and awake
the smell of gasoline and the loud music over the horrible things he said

Enter
I do not love you
I want to be alone, like a single petal left hanging on a stem
wet and sorry
after a careless summer thunderstorm

Enter
the loneliness of a never-ending beginning
the tease in which I can't bear to shake
the drapes that he never got to change in my room and the hope I can't forsake

Enter
the day begging to be taken advantage of only to fade away
the sun creeping through the window ready with its blaze
the strands of his hair on my pillow and that smell our love left

Enter
I do not want to compromise my idea of freedom
I have been through this before, like I was some whore
chained and scarred
heaving from the beatings his words carved inside my sore

Enter
the sound of his arrival, the silence of his dreams
the tickling and the singing and the rhythms of his omitted piano
the scars I find underneath and the blankets I tried to wrap around them

Enter
the kiss he gave me last night, the briefness left longingly at the stingy bar
the way he meant it, I could feel love in it
the outburst of damned lies and the shakiness of such insecurity

Enter
I do not know why when he sees me it makes me cry
I want to know why he sobbed when he watched the little girl die
innocent and dreamy
lost, like him, in imagination and webbed in wounds of treachery

Enter
the mystery of our woven paths still haunting my guide
the wines he likes and the unsweetened coffee in the morning
the veins that interlace in the long miles of our embrace

Enter
the goodbye I must wave so he can go to waste
the missing details of the story which we don't know how to tell
the end of our second coming and the tragedy of my fairy tale

Time

Time is the great master who says
a lesson to learn is never late in turn

I was wrong, he said
I was cold and colorless, he said

but I wonder

if he truly remembers
the love I cooked up all along
if he longs for my rhythm
and then dances with a porno on the weekends
if the site of my eyes
would still make his knees buckle
or if he'll run away again
into a trance
of lying bits of song

You had me, you know

Inflamed in a bitter taste now
to have you in my bed all made
you'd shake earthquakes
you'd grip my face and make me whisper
what I want

too late for that, I say
too damn late for that, I say

Skin's folly is nothing new
it's the piece missing in your stare
I want to learn about
that piece that has never been taken seriously
by your hazy eyes

I know the depth I could look into you
makes you shudder with regret
I can take your hand to my chest
and show you how my heart beats
without any love there
how hard I am inside from all
sharp turns it dragged me into
I'd show you my honeyed skin
my cherry lips
resting naked on the memory
of your sin

Time finally taught me to let go of
the damage you've done
the hopes you took me away from
the dreams my heart offered to you
but you still got lessons to learn too
because you are always late

You are always too damn late, I say

Stay

Before
I never let myself be known
to the shards of stained glass
displayed at St. Vincent's Church
I praise the strength that encompasses your name
and let it linger on the tongue
In our May, you walk me down our beach
and kiss me on my neck
I play with my short nails
against your wide sandy back
The footsteps are like the day you walked into my life
smooth and brilliant with the sun
The waves like sighs
like my undulating curves against the meaty part of your palm
attacking at my thighs

stay like this
don't dare take off and let my prayers be all that's left

stay like this
quiet as a dove at sunset

stay like this
fiery like a bull in Spain
dripping in your own ardent blood

Before
the flood
of our love
of tears that became mud
all the dreams fluttered away throughout thick green mountains
descended splashing down
the tallest and most powerful of waterfalls
then washed upon a river somewhere
To our dismay, I stayed
a scarred nun locked in a convent
like God would save me from this sore
afraid to look outside those solid thick walls
guarding your image as the bells sang in a call
reminding me of how sorry, how sorry
we were for missing each other so much

So,
stay like this
spread apart like a juicy orange

stay like this
with white velvety sheets wrapping us at night

stay like this
beside and through everything, baby
inside me till I die