graffiti books

Blueberries

His lips tasted like the blueberries that rarely occupy my fridge anymore
because it’s not summer
and it’s not the season for blueberries
and I guess it’s not the season for him either
but
maybe when the summer does comes
he’ll wish my hand was out his window
surfing the force of 80mph
instead of her hand
sitting delicately in her lap
and
maybe when the summer does come
his coffee eyes will wake me up
to a day of understood smiles and quiet kisses
and i’ll be his first thought everyday
and that girl will be past forgotten
and
maybe when summer does come
i’ll be a little bit more fearless
and I won’t be scared of our connection
i’ll trust myself a little more
to know I made the right decision
and when summer comes
I hope he finds passion
but what I really mean is
I hope he finds me
cause I can’t bear the thought of her kissing his cheek
no matter how much it makes him smile
and I lied at the beginning of this
he doesn’t taste like blueberries
he taste like the silver necklace I never take off
but whenever I eat blueberries
I imagine a summer day
only him and me
and the world miles away.

everything

i’ve given you all my vital organs
to show that i have given you everything.
i’ve given you my attitude
and my heart
and my lungs that lose oxygen every time i look at you
and all the in between.
i’m giving you my life
because that’s all you are to me
everything you see
is what i wish i could be.
i couldn’t describe how it feels
to have that feeling returned
after so many times of it being one sided.
so thank you
for being you
for i couldnt be me
if you didnt see me the way you do

5

I. I found home in a hotel room and that’s all I can say about falling in love with someone who can’t love you back.
II. This is a poem about the quiet: I don’t want to write about this, but I don’t want to keep it inside my chest.
III. There needs to be a word for when an unrequited lover sets a fire in your chest, because “heartbreak” doesn’t explain the way the smoke signals cry out ‘help.’
IV. You run from your emotions like school children run from prayer, feet synchronous with the church bells, kicking stones into the springtime.
V. When speaking to the dying: fill their lungs with empty promises. You tell me that you love me and your breath comes out like hospital air.

These are the first five Untitled Poems out of my poetry book “4:41″

.. List of Favorite Literature Characters .. 7/?

Sonny De La Vega - In The Heights

“Politicians be hatin’! Racism in this nation’s gone from latent to blatant! I’ll cash my ticket and picket - invest in protest - never lose my focus ‘til this city takes notice. And you know this, man! I’ll never sleep, ‘cause the ghetto has a million promises for me to keep! …I was just thinkin’ off the top of my head…”