Art by Gabriela Joyce https://jamartprints.com/artist/gabriela-joyce/
I’m painting a picture inside my head
of your hands wrapping around my waist,
like overgrown flowers on a gate,
your soft eyes looking down at me,
lighting my world as the sun had before,
the sound of your voice like music to my ears,
your shirt brushing up against mine as you lean closer,
and your lips meeting mine with a kiss,
and I remember once again how much I love you.
Addicted to Me, Us
You take a pull
And our connection grows.
You want me even more
I’m on your mind all day
You’re growing more reliant on me
You need me to survive
I’m like a drug to you
And you’re addicted.
It’s time to sober up.
Journey To Yourself
You are worth the pain it took to find yourself.
Tell yourself, in violent whispers,
That your war is one worth fighting.
It did not kill you and
It did not make you stronger.
It simply was
And always will
Be scorched upon
The world is spinning
It’s a new beginning
All shall be peace and harmony
Equality is showing
No people in pain and agony
Now this really seems like the life.
In the continent that is now forgotten,
Many suffer in the old continent.
The news directs people’s eyes to the west,
Making us ignore all the unrest.
With social media and all our information,
We’re still blind and send no attention.
To the news the world is America and no other,
Meanwhile kids lose their families and brothers.
Where I Come From
I come from Nowhere
In the eyes of the world
Long forgotten in history
I come from Poverty
But they do not see it
Blinded by their greed
I come from Discord
Where the wealthy rule us all
Our anger simmering, seething, waiting
But I come from Familiarity
Where one will not judge another
On the basis of their skin
I come from Beauty
Where our ancestry stands with pride
So the ignorant can see
I come from Persistence
Where we fought to be free
So we could be seen
I come from Home
I come from Guatemala.
What Love Is
Love is spending time with them no matter the circumstances,
Love is watching their shows even if you hate it,
Love is taking care of them at their worst,
Love is hiding how you feel when they’re at their worst,
Love is stepping in when they can’t,
Love is making their favourite meal,
Love is simple gestures,
Love is putting up with them when they’re mad at you,
Love is forgiving them when you’re not ready to,
Love is the little things,
Anytime you say goodbye could be the last one,
So, make every time like it is the last time you say goodbye.
To write this.
I’m trying to write it so I won’t get judged,
And not sound more dramatic than I’m trying to be.
I’m trying to fit between the lines of “too little” and “too much”,
And trying to not write all the things I never said,
because I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop.
So this is me,
I’m always conflicted
Torn in 10 ways
I feel constantly restricted
With the things that I say
If I’m honest
I get dragged down
But if I stay silent
I feel as though I’ve drowned.
I wish I could open my mouth and not regret what I say.
I Don’t Know
I don’t know what to think,
I don’t know what to feel,
I just don’t know.
I don’t think I’m smart enough,
I don’t think I’m nice enough
I don’t think I’m enough.
But I do think
I do feel.
And I do know things
Though it might be random things
But I do know.