sjsprWriting

Oscuro y silente,
en los suspiros perdidos encontraba, 
puerta cerrada, los latidos ardientes 
que se acorralaban a tu garganta
y delataba...

I think about disappearing a lot. What it would entitle, how I would do it. I think the only thing that keeps me from doing so is the fear I have of the pain it would give me. And the fact that I fear I'll miss something beautiful. I constantly take pictures, of everything and anything. It gets annoying at times, and I know that, but I feel like if I just collect enough beautiful things it wont be so hard to miss the ones I won...

Traté de guardar tu mirada en una foto aquel día.
Traté de quemarla en mi memoria, y así, no perderla.
Traté de hacer permanente el brillo de tus parpadeos al sol cruzar la ventana.

Aquel día, tus cachetes derretían entre mis dedos,
desbordando en ...

¿Y qué si el viento se olvidase de tu olor?

Si el sol parase de alumbrar tu memoria.

Si el hielo, que tu insaciable sed esperaba, por una vez se derrite.

Si el color se tus ojos escapara del prisma terrestre,

y aquella pa...

Most all the earth is barren. Barely enough trees to sustain the lasting population with oxygen. The evident heating of the Earth led to world wide droughts, and the drying out of most foliage. Everywhere. The distillation process could not keep with the demand of water coming from humans, which led to the eruption of a third world war. The War on Water.

Entire communities fought against one another for a dro...

I have been to the depths

of me, where a woman becomes a child again

where space regains sound

and the strongest monsters lie in shadows.

I have been where you most fear to be.

I have confronted my reflection

She did not look up but

Covered what she could.

I have taken note

Of every scar, bruise, and bump

every mark stretched, every patch discolored

There is a story unfolding here,

It sings &...

"You've been laying there all day."

Her gaze continued to be fixated on the ceiling she had been staring at for the past few hours, not looking at the sudden intruder.

The sound of shuffling of papers. A groan, then exasperated sigh. "This place is a fucking mess."

She shrugged. "'m sorry," mumbled. Gaze remaining on ceiling. 

More sounds of objects moving. Breath, in and out. A muttered, "You can't find anything in here.....

I.

I met it when I was ten.

Mother and father had always wanted another child, and – after so many years of waiting – they got exactly that.

“Honey, this is your brother. I want you to treat him well, okay?” Mother would say. I’d stare at it, amazed at how it looked like us. Smelled like us. Talked like us.

It was seven years old.

“Is it yours?” I asked.

“We adopted him, so he is part ...

You told me the stars in Chile were the brightest of them all and that the color blue reminded you of the summers in Greece kissing the girl with the scrapped knees. You know about lust and desire and liking someone but not really loving them. You know why the streets are built a certain way and the physics behind maintaining your balance when you just want to fall.

You know that the first thing you forget about a person is the sound of their voice and that your grandfather...

We are music-makers,

We are poets

We are lovers

We are artists

We are mixed bloods

We are peacemakers

We are more than we seem to be

They are critics

They are killers

They are fighters

They are judgers

They are racists

They are haters without reason

They are structured, they are broken

I am writing melodies

You ...