inside of you,

that constant voice

knows you better 

than anyone else.

she’s been there

when no one else was.

she knows she’ll never

steer you wrong.

she’ll direct you forward, 

& retract you 

from uncomfortable situations.

no matter if they say otherwise, 

listen to her.

friends know a side of you,

your lover knows another,

but she knows...

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I twist in the night, in anger.

I wake in the morning, in anger.

I know the dreams are just dreams 

but the aching is tangible, 

it’s at the forefront that I can’t shake.

It’s too early to feel this way, with holes punctured through the heart. 

A feeling that I’ve been used as target practice.

Congratulations, you’ve won…

You’ve robbed me yet again from waking with the deli...

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the voice comes to me 
as a phantom in a dream. 

as i write 
the voice channels 
from him to me. 

laughter vanishes 
to staring at the sea, 
to the house 
that no longer carries 
his childhood dreams. 

vacanies searching for occupation 
from passing through stations 
to platforms holding onto memories, 
all of it comes to me. 

in my internal screenplay, 
is he the playwright...

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When I think of Carlos, 
a beautiful soul of a man, 
emotional, heartfelt poetry bleeds through 
Tears creep on the brink of every reading 
His hand held over his heart to keep it in 
He makes a mark wherever he goes 
The rhythm of his words flow 
And it leaves you speechless 
All you can mouth is ‘wow…’ 

Pondering over poems to capture what I believe in 
A work of art always in progre...

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Originally published in Clay Literary’s RAVEN: https://www.clayliterary.com/post/raven-issue-seven-08-30-2020

eyes squeeze shut all at once with 
wishes whispered under breaths to be 
anywhere else, anywhere cooler than 

the constant heatwave of near 100 degrees. 
Toes dip into makeshift sandy beaches 
along the city’s river while children 

play in water fountains next to erected sand...

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sprouting from the underground,

reaching for the light,

messengers of truth 

tell us the news 

spoken dreams 

awaken us now, 

emboldened by our own worth, 

timepieces have reversed 

our covert existence,

like buried keepsakes 

begged for air,

pained to be bare 

our struggles,

spotlight moments in

Hollywood movies; as we weep, 

the only wa...

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How many love letters do I have to write before they are sent
How many hours do I spend and lament
Over the impossible dream
The one that can’t be seen
And more and more it seems
Like it’s never going to be

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The shape of our love, our version of it,
Exists in bubbling thoughts of former lives
And constant dreams of distant hearts
Where our lives are entwined

Ripples of waves intersect
Jetting dangerously close
But never on the same path
Turning heads, looking back

How do we get off this track
Without losing control,
Without knowing
Where it will go

The inhabitants look upon us
Makin...

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