this is not a love poem

I’m not easy to love

I keep most things to myself

I write a lot

I put you, whoever you are neatly between margins

The margins in my notebook

The invisible margins in the back page of my favorite book

The digital margins in my notes app on my phone

I’m not easy to love

I’m warning you

But I’ll love you with breath, memories, and words

I’ll write about when you make me smile

I’ll write about when you don’t make me smile

I’ll write about when you forget things

I’ll write

It’s what I know

It’s how I breathe

It’s how I survive

I’m not easy to love

I think too much

And say too little

I may not love you the way you want to be loved

But I’ll love you with all of me

I’ll love you with breath, memories, and words

I’ll love you like I love to breathe

Writing is how I breathe

I’ll put you between margins

It’s how I breathe

I want a love

I want extraordinary love
I want a love that's unconditional
I want a love that's genuine
I want a love that stays
I want a love that's real
I want a love that inspire me
I want a love that's not complicated
I don't want a hidden love
I don't want a secret love
I don't want a love that comes and goes
I don't want an ordinary love
I want extraordinary love

end of the road.

You knew
I knew
that it was the end of the road.

I'm not perfect.

I'm not perfect
I know that
You know that, you put it on your agenda to remind me as much as possible too
After all, you're not the only one that remind me every chance possible
I KNOW I'M NOT PERFECT
I've accepted that
but you didn't
I've embrace my flaws
I'm comfortable with my flaws
I work on my flaws, sometimes
I'm too negative sometimes
I have high hopes at times
but then I'm reminded that I'm too flawed
too imperfect
It's your voices whispering in the shadow of my thoughts
I try to ignore them
only for them to get louder
I'm not perfect
I know that
I love that I'm not perfect
I just wish you love me for my imperfect self
you're not perfect either, you know
I just wish that I don't have to mold myself into someone you want
I just wish I don't have to feel like I'm not good enough
I know I'm not perfect
I don't have to be reminded every chance possible

broken.

I get lost, often
my mind wanders places and I lose myself
I drown, often
my wind over flows with thoughts
feeling so small in the midst of a crowd
I lose myself, too often
I don't say much
I think too much
I do too little
that's why I get lost, too often
Cause I'm playing scenarios of how things should go in my mind
but they never play out how I think them
I don't cry often
when I do, it's a chip have been lifted off my shoulders
It's a feelings I like
It's a feeling I don't like, cause I hate to be so emotionally naked
crying makes me feel naked
exposed
I get lost, often
yesterday I got lost
and I drowned while I was trying to find my way back
I've been broken
the broken pieces have been glued together
the scars remain
but the glue is not enough
it was never enough
I don't see the whole picture
I just see the places where it was glued back together
I get lost, often
in the moments that I write, I briefly find myself
that's when I stop drowning

if only

if only we write wrote poems to communicate with each other 

poems that are only meant  for you and I 

poems that keeps the love alive

poems that’d make you laugh and smile when you’re sitting alone

keeping our love sacred

keeping our love alive for when we are gone

poems that you can show your children and your grand children 

when you tell them about your love, our love

poems that highlighted every memory in between the lines 

poems that become became lullabies when you can’t couldn’t sleep

but only a silly girl would believe 

that poems would keep something that’s falling apart together

never forget

How can you forget figi manman’w?

She comes to you in your dreams

She’s the shadow walking with you

How can you forget her face?

She’s your marassa; she’s the one behind the glass in the mirror looking back at you

How can you forget the kaban san matla you slept on?

It’s made from your worn memories

Your papa callused hands

Your manman delicate rough hands

The dark green dress you wore when you were 6* still tucked in the right upper hand corner of the kaban

Sonje tout ti moso sa yo 

Those little pieces that keep you sane on most days

Sometimes yo pa ase

Sometimes you dig the pen in your left arm to watch the blood … to remember that you are one in the same out of the four

Lonely but never alone

For your manman walks with you in the shadows

Look at you through the mirror

For your papa whisper in your ears

Reminding you that you are one in the same out of the four

*

Figi manman’w: your mother’s face

Marassa: twin

Kaban san matla: bed without a mattress

Sonje tout ti moso sa yo: remember all those little pieces

yo pa ase: they are not enough