I suppose I regret you. 

I suppose I regret that time I said I wouldn’t get over that guy; the time I cried of laughter when really I just couldn’t bring up the courage to let myself cry for the reason I wanted to; the time I kissed him and wasn’t ready; the time I almost did that; the time I looked at you and you didn’t see me; the time blood sparkled against the midnight-lit lamp; the time I let myself believe I couldn’t and the other when I let myself believe I could. 

I suppose I regret not being there and being there and doing this and doing that with this person and that person and making my world crash in burning flames.

Most of all, though, I regret regretting. 


Tug of War

Do it. Don’t. DO IT. 

Fuck. I hate cursing.

I’m walking on the thinest rope tonight. What for? What’s the point?

Keep me alive. Hold me. 

When the rope breaks, will you give me wings to fly? 

Allí Estaré

Es un poema viejo, del 1 de diciembre del 2015.

Cuando la luna canta

y el sol marchita,

encuentro tu sonrisa.

Cuando la sombras me aterran

Y las estrellas no brillan,

Tus palabras me iluminan.

Cuando la lluvia cae

Y el azul desvanece,

Tu abrazo permanece.

Cuando todo va mal,

Cuando todo va bien,

Mejor amiguito allí estarás.

Y cuando todo va mal

Y cuando todo este bien,

Nenito mío, allí estaré. 

Judge me

Judge me. I don’t care. Judge me on my clothes, my mistakes, my love of makeup. Judge me on how I’m an outcast and how even that world sounds pitiful. I made myself an outcast, you didn’t make me. I stopped talking and taking interest in you. I left you to smile at your friends, insult them, go to parties, and drink until you were too drunk to stand. I left society, so judge me. No one will listen.