You Were Right

The last few times we spoke, we
engaged in conversations that
took us out of this world. We transitioned
into another dimension yet it was familiar
enough to call home because we had been there,
many times before. The only thing we’d ever been
fortunate enough to accomplish up there,
where all seemed right was a collection of
mixed feelings and emotions that
clouded our inability to accept the
inevitable truth that we were
always better off as friends.
Somewhere inside, we both knew the truth.

Dear Diary

As I lay in my bed,
I’ve got so much on my mind,
as usual.
I’m a buzzing bee.
Thinking about this and that
plus everything else in between.

Getting enough sleep
seems to be a luxury I haven’t been able
to achieve in my adult life.
Just the other day,
I was letting the cat out of the bag,
telling my sister how cursed I feel
to be laced with the poison of
worry.

Don’t get me wrong,
I am blessed in so many other ways.
I just wish I knew how to
fully let go and trust God
in everything like I know I should…
but I don’t.

I don’t trust anyone!
Trust, is the root of my worries.
I feel like I have so much going on
(join the rest of the world, right? Yeah, LOL. I know)
that I don’t know any way out
of this turmoil so I continue on
the path I’ve known for far too long.

But, the truth is: I’m ready to let go
of my worries and trust God fully and completely
because worrying myself
into an early grave
is not something I’m looking forward to.

My Handsome Son

He is an angelic treat
with his freshly squeezed sense of humor.
He is the genius behind the glasses,
my technology king, my little engineer
with a vivid imagination, always exploring new things.

He is my photographer and filmmaker,
my best man and my Prince Charming.
The talker with that infectious dimpled smile,
there’s never a dull moment.

He gives me strength and plenty of reasons
to smile, to hope, to keep believing
that everything will be alright
through the good times and bad.

He is the other ray of sunlight in my life.

Happy 8th Birthday!
Love, mom

Life is a Journey

I try to hide my emotions
deep down inside of me
but no matter where I go,
they always seem to find me.

I try not to cry in front of others
when all I want to do is break down
and cry, allowing every wall
I’ve ever held up to tumble down
when my emotions get the best of me.

I try to always think on a positive note
but there are times
when negativity consumes my airwaves
and I fall down
into a spiral staircase of self-destruction.

I try to laugh more than I frown
But sometimes I let certain things or people in my life
drag me down into confusing directions,
adding to my disappointments
and falling short of my expectations.

I try to be the best me
I can possibly be
‘cause at the end of the day,
after everyone has made their way home,
I have to find my way home too.

Ball Of Fire

I’ve been holding my breath in

I’m screaming Armageddon in my head,
letting loose everything I’m afraid
to let crawl out of my mouth
into the already corrupt atmosphere.

I’m burning up,
every anger and frustration
bundled up into one big fireball.
A therapist sits in the horizon
with a pen and paper,
waiting,
waiting for me,
ready,
ready to take notes and nod her head

yes
no
maybe

I am my worst enemy right now.
Everything I hold in will soon erupt.
Maybe not today.
But in time,
my ball of fire will be hard to put out.

Bittersweet

When I was in love with you,
it was a bittersweet experience.
I loved you with my whole heart
even when you questioned
why I had so much love for you.
Nothing I ever said or did
could justify in your mind
what was so lovable about you.

Imperfect Me

I have scars on my delicate body.
There are tears and stretches in my soft skin.
I have some discoloration here and there.
Bumps, blackheads, and acne come my way often.
There are some temporary bruises
that will probably leave a lifelong mark.

I have permanent scars
that reminds me of where I’ve been.
I have bags underneath my eyes;
my swollen, sleepy, crying eyes; a genetic situation.
I have stretch marks.
The culprit: two pregnancies.

My body isn’t perfect but it is mine.
Mine to love.
Mine to honor.
Mine to cherish.
Mine to accept.
Mine to feel comfortable in.
My body is my temple.

I have natural carvings on my body.
I’ve been blessed with these permanent tattoos.
My body tells a story.

Night and Day

We were always
in different places in our lives;
fighting our individual battles.

We were always
searching for a distinct love
that neither one of us
could find in each other.

No matter how hard we tried
to find something in common,
we could not relate to each other’s stories.
Like night and day we always were.
Just briefly crossing paths.

Open Your Eyes

Don’t follow the crowd.
Step out and be a leader.
Make up your own mind.
Have your own identity.
Know yourself better.
Love and appreciate yourself more.

Wear whatever makes you feel happy,
your style should not be highly influenced
by society’s constant changing fashion lines.

Be your own boss.
Navigate your own schedule
Instead of being numbed with someone else’s idea
of how you should spend your time.

and blah, blah, blah…

Everything you see
does not have your name on it.

Everything you hear
should not be repeated.

Everything you think
should be re-thinked at least twice before execution.

Every move you make
should be a stepping stone to the next level.

Wake up!
The world is watching you.
Wheeling you into everything it can,
poisoning your mind with its plans
so you can join the movement
when the time presents itself.

Open your eyes and start thinking for yourself.
Step out of the crowd.
The world is not your friend.
God is your only light.

Two Sides of Love

Love swears up and down
he is a loving husband
but he’s really an abusive lost child
who feels like a man when he pounds on his wife.

In turn, love is an abused wife
who takes all the pounding like a punching bag,
too afraid to get out of a bad relationship
because she is married to the love of her life.

Love is a mother
who gave up everything she had,
even the clothes off her back
to support a grown child who has never really grown up.

In turn, love is a son or daughter
who has it all, anything money can buy
but does nothing to help his/her suffering mother
who’s one day away from being homeless.

Love is a woman in love
with a man who doesn’t see her worth.
She is a good woman. She is loyal.

In turn, love is a man who spends
all of his money on a gold digging woman
who only wants him for how much money he’s worth.