lovepaola

[lovepaola]

This is how my friend died.

Survivor’s guilt is success at the top

But lonely

Blood trailed up 

But the journey was agonizing

You sit on the throne 

Without your day one homies

And when you go back home everyone wants to act like an angel has arrived 

But you not even close to holy

An opportunity maybe, to wash they hands in gold and take what’s yours

Stocks for the low and chains for all your hoes

Is this how you amount to success?

Dancing boys who sell sex 

What ever happened to the devil deals

Dog days and drowning drills?

I could have mistaken your breath for blue bills 

We don’t call for the candy man anymore

We call for money man who gives the girls chills and thrills 

But pardon me, 

My father could have sworn he saw you at the corner store looking for God in empty tanks

Trying to fill your bank 

And if there was ever a problem big enough to hide in the river

I could’ve called Hank 

You still got his number? 

I have to let him know I’ve seen a ghost today

Calling my name

Asking for a ride and wishing I could see him as sane. 

This is how my friend died.

The man who needed me but never wanted me

Spoke to his mother about what a good wife I would be 

Would play with my hand and sell me a ring that would never pass my knuckle

Then he went off dancing with the girl drinking gin.

I was okay with that

Being the mold and model 

Looked for me in the girls that couldn’t follow 

And I swallowed

Pity? Pride? A secret way to die? 

I would entertain his fantasies but reminded him I was never real 

Only a dream 

I returned home every night lonely 

Soon enough he kissed me with a goodbye

Got everything he needed out of me.

On summer days black rims would skirt past my mother’s house 

And remind me of how I should’ve been the one sitting in the passenger seat 

How I would hold his hand while the tires weaved past potholes that the city never bothered to fix

We would talk about how it would all be ours one day

The world 

We would eat the world alive

Satisfy our hunger 

Never being able to stay still

Like bees we would buzz

At 3:04, my father passed the phone where my homegirl cried on 

The black rims ended in the water of the bridge I always passed over to get home

And next to him was her

Not me 

Her

The girl who couldn’t follow

That day my friend died and I felt bad that I didn’t die with him. 

I hope the casket is covered in gold

And the hoes with chains fill every row

In the pews, I could hear his mother whisper in my ear about how I should have stayed 

This would have never happened and now we dig his grave

Years later, I stayed alive

But this is how my friend died

I still wonder why.

Love, Paola

#lovepaola #writing #my poerty #poetry #poetry on tumblr #writers and poets #excerpt from a story i'll never write

[lovepaola]

On bad days my ring on my right hand gets stuck on everything. My presence becomes too loud for me to listen to myself / Almost like a gush of wind in your face. And I just want to find the mute button./ On bad days my feet are stomping on my own heart, the ground is no where to feel,/ this unbearable source steals all my senses, and I just want to find the mute button./ The bed swallows me whole,/ doesn’t even take a bite,/ doesn’t care for the bitter taste,/ displeasing grace./ The silence swaddles me to sleep,/ or screams burst my bubble,/ either way I cannot dream,/ God will not hear my mumbles/ Grass is greener on the other side?/ How long till I can slide/ Past the unforbidden and punishable/ A apology I will never voice./ I will not say sorry/ I’ve ran out to ask for forgiveness, came back with empty promises,/ Hands that grasp and never got./ It is said that life will be fulfilling when you desire nothing./ Life will never be happy for me,/ A penny in the fountain/ A youthful type of wish/ On bad days I think about everything good that I could have, a needy hunger,/ I will not suffice./ Watch me drown on bad days,/ Watch me loose my ring/ Watch me loose a voice I barely have,/ How sad.

Love, Paola

#poetry #love poems #poems on tumblr #poet #poetry on tumblr #sad #personal #original #trini speaks #new #writing #writers on tumblr #write #literature #english