notsopinkconfessions

[notsopinkconfessions]

Just A Soft Spot Inside My Chest

“It didn’t mean anything,” she said.

“He’s just like that with every girl.”

It is her response to what I explained

as my “confused” thoughts.

“It just felt weird,” I said.

She laughed softly again.

I didn’t want to acknowledge to her 

or anyone else,

there was a warmth settling

inside my chest.

I didn’t want to say or state

there is a soft spot in my veins

when he’s around or anything else.

It ain’t love, at least not yet.

But I’ve caught myself thinking

of the long game.

That night, while we watched the movie

and I laughed on his shoulder

with his hand on my cheek

and both snuggling together,

I wondered what it’d be like 

if he kissed me. 

Kept wondering 

if I was the only one wondering.

Kept wondering 

if I would return his kiss

or move away in a brim. 

And when the movie ended

and we both stood up

and he asked if my roomie was awake

and just watched me pass by

I kept wondering if he was gonna try,

I wanted to know what it’d be like

to have his lips on mine. 

Instead just wished him goodnight

and went back to normal life.

I didn’t tell her, I slept that night better

than I had slept in a while.

Or that I have in repeat 

some of the silliest things

he’d say to me

His “oh, you are knockout gorgeous”

and his soft eyes whenever he sees me

singing softly while I do homework

or walk around campus dancing

to some unknown memory 

and he just laughs

before hugging me 

and calling me adorable.

-who’d be stupid enough to call me

adorable?-

And how all of those stupid things

don’t seem stupid when they come from him.

I didn’t tell her I know he’s dating someone else

And thinking of many other girls

and yet I can’t wait to dance la bachata

with him, his hands firm on my waist,

laughing in my ear, trying to follow my rhythm.

That I don’t have friends’ thoughts

when his hand is on my neck

in an elaborate salsa step.

Yeah, maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

Just a soft spot inside my chest.

Rola.

[notsopinkconfessions]

Fuck, I did it again.

I’m a sucker for idiots

with easy laughs 

and laid-back attitudes.

Idiots who have 

a thousand girlfriends,

who give each one of them

roses for valentines day. 

Idiots who are willing to hug

and snuggle and cuddle

each one of their girl--friends.

Idiots who are the so loved

the so hated

guy best friend.

No one will treat you better 

than him

but hell treat each girl

the fucking same.

The eternal best friend

but never the boyfriend.

Fuck, I did it again.

Felt for the fucking asshole

who isn't an asshole

except for the fact that 

He wears his heart on his sleeve.

The good guy and the bad guy

will both break your heart.

You might as well choose

the one you have the most fun with.

Yeah, well, I like the guys I just feel right with.

Sadly, they are the guys 

who just make everyone else

feel the same way.

Like a fucking rose falling in love with the hummingbird.

Fuck, I did it again.

Rola

[notsopinkconfessions]

Prompt: write about today in the messiest way.

High functioning anxiety, she called it.

and I laughed because it was relatable.

But, like, in the funny way.

Except it wasn’t,

-because it was relatable in the skin-crawling,

ashamed-blushing kind of way.

I hate failing. God, I hate the way my cheeks blush.

and the sharp edge and defensive tone my voice takes

and how anger seems to pour off every one of my pores

and how incapable I am of being comfortable

in my own skin

when I fail.

As if I didn’t deserve another try, as if trying wasn’t enough.

As if every single little thing I’m doing

-that everyone calls a lot-

was never enough.

As if failing is not valid either.

And I force myself to go through the situation

when all I want to do is run away.

I hate failing and making mistakes.

It doesn’t happen. Not to me.

Expect it does.

And they are the can of worms I hide

in a drawer covered by my most expensive perfume.

Because if no one can see them,

then maybe they won’t feel dissatisfied

when they look at me

failing.

Like my parents did

-like I do. 

Rola.

#spiled poetry #spilled words #spilled emotions #spilled tears #poet #sad poem #poem #poetry #new poets society #poets corner #poets on tumblr #poems and quotes #poems on tumblr

[notsopinkconfessions]

Yesterday everything felt wrong.

I was ready to give up and throw the door.

Tears fell when I got to the phone

and I could finally tell my uncle "I'm done!"

hadn't even taken a shower; I was a mess.

Getting out of bed just to take my meds.

Defeated all the way to my brain,

there was nothing to digress.

A sensation of desperation and hate

to me? the world? my family and friends?

Everything and then... a yell

or two or three or just all in my head.

Went to my suitemate's room begging to be held

and hoping to finally explain

the anxious spiderweb nesting in my head.

School wasn't working out and motivation was out.

Nowhere to live or leave or anything in between.

Bad news after the other, no stability.

"But that cannot be solved in a day or today,"

She said. Then hugged me tightly and said:

"But you can take a shower and rest."

She smiled softly and explained:

"you can treat yourself kindly and prepare,

the future can work itself

but not until the present enjoys its best."

I took a shower and went to bed.

Blocked my email and painted my nails.

No alarm the next day and just the thought of treating myself.

Today, I'm feeling great.

Went to the bookstore and spent

all that tomorrow I will regret.

Went for some tea with a friend

and had a softly chill day.

"Consistency is all we need," he said

and I couldn't be more thankful for them.

I remember my mom once said:

"and when your parents die and your children have left,

only your partner stays."

But hell, I've been saved by the kindness of a friend

more than I'll ever be able to explain.

They make me feel like myself.

-Rola

#spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled emotions #spilled tears #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #poetry #poem #love poem #poets of tumblr #poems on tumblr #poems and quotes #women poets #poets corner #poets on tumblr #new poets society #female poets

[notsopinkconfessions]

red.

Red wall, red dress, red paint.

Always three reds. Always there. She is red.

What is red? Her, obviously. What else?

Courage. Desire. Love. Rage.

Red wall, red dress, red paint.

Her lips pursing, tears down her face.

Match in hand; nothing to regret. 

Think about feminine rage.

Red, just her.

---------------------------

Pared roja, vestido rojo, pintura roja.

Siempre tres rojos. Siempre ahi. Ella es el rojo.

 Que es el rojo? Ella, obviamente. Que mas?

Coraje. Deseo. Amor. Rabia.

Pared roja, vestido rojo, pintura roja.

Sus labios fruncidos, lagrimas cayendo por su rostro.

Fosforo en mano; nada de que arrepentirse.

 Piensa en la rabia femenina.

Roja, solo ella.

- Rola.

[notsopinkconfessions]

Write, write, write.

The tickle in my fingertips; the shout in my head.

the franticness with which I look for the paper.

Anything that can catch the fleeting thought.

The maniac inside comes alive

as if a switch has been aligned:

write, write, write.

As if leaving the thought

will make a piece of me disappear.

A caterpillar lurking around long enough,

its chrysalis already formed, 

breaking into a butterfly

running to be lost in the wilderness 

never to be seen again. 

Write, write, write.

And when my fingers cannot keep up 

with the stumbling words inside,

words too slow for the sensations inside my chest.

The trembling of my hands; spinning in my head.

Looking desperately as the butterfly flies away.

Net ripping and tangling at every tree and turn.

Write, write, write. 

The desperation and joy, as if there’s no middle point.

Words bleeding into the paper as the wind cuts

for the butterfly’s wings can cause a typhoon.

--------

Escribe, escribe, escribe. El cosquilleo en la punta de mis dedos; el grito en mi cabeza. el frenesí con el que busco el papel. Cualquier cosa que pueda atrapar el pensamiento fugaz. La maníaca interior cobra vida como si se hubiera alineado un interruptor: escribir, escribir, escribir. Como si dejar el pensamiento ir hará desaparecer un pedazo de mí. Una oruga al acecho el tiempo suficiente, su crisálida ya formada, convirtiéndose en una mariposa corriendo para perderse en el desierto para nunca ser vista otra vez. Escribe, escribe, escribe. Y cuando mis dedos no pueden seguir el ritmo de las palabras tropezando en el interior, palabras demasiado lentas para las sensaciones dentro de mi pecho. el temblor de mis manos; dando vueltas en mi cabeza. Mirando desesperadamente como la mariposa se va volando. Red rasgando y enredando en cada árbol y vuelta. Escribe, escribe, escribe. La desesperación y la alegría, como si no hubiera un punto medio. Palabras sangrando en el papel mientras el viento corta porque las alas de la mariposa pueden causar un tifón.

- Rola

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[notsopinkconfessions]

Rola.

#notsopinkconfessions #love #spiled poetry #poetasdeinstagram #de poesía y poetas #poetas latinoamericanos #por #spilled poetry #poesía #scatteredthoughts #selfcare #amwriting #poesia #poetry

[notsopinkconfessions]

Cocoon.✨ #poetrylovers #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #poetryislife #poetrybookshelf #poetsociety #poems #poemsandquotes #spilledinkpoetry #spilledink #spilledpoetry #spilledwords #spilledwriting #bilingual #poema #poemas #poesia #poesiaenespañol #poesiacontemporanea #poesiadelalma #poesiaurbana

[notsopinkconfessions]

Recuerda lo que debes hacer

Cuando te subestimen,

Cuando piensen

Que tú suavidad es debilidad,

Cuando traten tu gentileza

Como si fuera suya para aprovechar.

Tu despiertas

Todo dragon,

Todo lobo,

Todo monstruo

Que duerme dentro de ti

Y les recuerdas

Como luce el infierno

Cuando usa la piel

De un humano gentil.

[notsopinkconfessions]

Smoking is bad, but being emotionally irresponsible is worse.

Totalmente

[notsopinkconfessions]

Make Me Believe

And if there’s something

I can ask of you,

please, make me believe.

On the days 

when I become cynical,

when I feel desperate.

Make me believe

in love and dreams,

in passion and hope.

When I have this longing

I can’t explain.

When my head is blurry.

Make me believe

in acceptance and bliss,

in belonging and satisfaction.

On the days

When everything feels numb

When I find everything insufficient.

Make me believe

in gentleness and kindness,

in something worth fighting for.

On the days

I can’t even stand myself

much less others.

Make me believe,

in the beauty of this

stained world.

---------------------------------------------------------

y si hay algo te puedo pedir, por favor, hazme creer.

en los días en que me siento cínico, en que me siento desesperada.

hazme creer en el amor y los sueños, en la pasión y la esperanza.

Cuando tengo este anhelo que no puedo explicar. Cuando mi cabeza está borrosa.

hazme creer en aceptación y dicha, en pertenencia y satisfacción.

en los días Cuando todo se siente entumecido Cuando encuentro todo insuficiente.

hazme creer en la gentileza y bondad, en algo por lo que valga la pena luchar.

en los días en que ni siquiera puedo conmigo misma mucho menos con otros.

hazme creer, en la belleza de este mundo manchado.

Rola.

#poets on tumblr #poets corner #poetry #spilled poetry #poesia #poetasdeinstagram #rola

[notsopinkconfessions]

Exhaustion

I’m so tired. 

Everyday like the one before

a pile of can't-catch up work

that is never-ending.

I listen to all this expectations

and want to claim

that the only ones that matter

are my own.

I see all this work and wonder

will it all be for something

I’ve worked so hard 

that I’ve run out of fuel.

I never break

never stop working

and never really cry

without a “plausible reason.”

Sometimes I wonder

what it’d be like to 

bring hell on earth

for all the things I’ve never said.

Lately, I’m so tired

that all motivation I find

is scratched from the bottom

of my heart.

The life I want 

seems to slip 

through my fingers

and yet

I just want to scream.

Or cry.

To feel really alive.

#poetry #depressing poem #poem #poets on tumblr #poet #new poets society #women poets #poets corner

[notsopinkconfessions]

I’m scared

Is it my silence

And hunting stare

That hide it?

I’m scared

Of what will happen

For my hurt and rage

Do not let me stay

I’m scared

I don’t know

How to treat you

I’m in pain

I’m scared

Of being around you

Of hurting you

Or hurting myself

I’m scared

And running away

For if I fight, my claws

Will destroy everything

I’m scared

You’ll hurt with my howl

But I hurt with your

Indifference towards my silence

I’m scared

For wolves protect

But when they attack

They kill.

Silent Howl - Rola

————————————-

Tengo miedo

Es mi silencio

O mirada de cazadora

Lo que lo ocultan?

Tengo miedo

De lo que pasara

Porque mi rabia y dolor

No me dejan quedarme.

Tengo miedo

No se

Cómo tratarte

Estoy dolida.

Tengo miedo

De estar cerca de ti

De herirte

De herirme.

Tengo miedo

Y estoy huyendo

Porque si peleo, mis garras

Destrozaran todo.

Tengo miedo

Sufrirás con mi aullido

Pero yo sufro con tu

Indiferencia ante mi silencio.

Tengo miedo

Porque los lobos protegen

Pero cuando atacan

Mata.

Aullido Silencioso- Rola

#notsopinkconfessions #love #opinion #spiled poetry #poesia #spilled poetry #poets on tumblr #poetry #new poets society #poets corner #sad poem #poeta

[notsopinkconfessions]

Today is a day for Elliot Smith-Between the bars. Close your eyes and block everything but the song. Let’s bare our souls together and acknowledge everything we’ve been running from.

———————

Hoy es un día para Elliot Smith-Between the bars. Cierra tus ojos y bloquea cualquier cosa excepto la canción. Desnudemos nuestras almas y reconozcamos todo aquello de lo que hemos estado huyendo.

[notsopinkconfessions]

Years of love were forgotten, in the hate of a minute.

“Años de amor han sido olvidados, en el odio de un minuto.”

— Edgar Allan Poe (via humanismo-nostalgico)

[notsopinkconfessions]

Un juego perdido

Quieres jugar a las escondidas con mi amor

Frialdad en la calle

Besándome en esquinas oscuras

Tras la seguridad de puertas cerradas

Asique si no puedo tenerte

de la forma que quiero

Y tu no me quieres

de la forma que soy

Déjame perseguirte.

A Losing Game

you want to play hide and seek with my love

cold shoulder in the street

kissing me in dark corners

safe behind closed doors

so if I can't have you

the way I want to

and you don't want me

the way I am

then let me haunt you

[notsopinkconfessions]

Una Representación Jubilosa de Piel.

#notsopinkconfessions #love #protesta #opinion #poesía #scatteredthoughts #spilled poetry #feminismo #arte #arteveryday #artefeminista