Riden On The Train...

Oh the subways of NYC...I've been told riding on the train can spark that creative spirit...so this is what I observed on a simple 30 minute ride on that nice little 4 train...

Please Lady Sit More Ladylike...
As her coach sneakers replace the kitten heels her feet have not gotten quite used to, her black socks scrunch down after a long days work. She's not used to wearing girlie outfits as her legs ease open and her back slouches into a familiar position. Her cotton dress lays on top of her manly legs displaying scars from rough nights and bball courts. She continuously bits down on the front of her tongue and picks at dead skin on her left pinkie finger. The dirt under her fingernails builds showing evidence of unwashed hands.


A Lover Not A Fighter...
As his tattooed arms make two fists and swings, the young boy listens intently as his father teaches him the right techniques to boxing. The navy blue NY Yankees hat falls slightly, hiding the little boys brown eyes as he rests his head against his father's strong shoulder. As his heart warms, his papi rests his head upon his sons, remembering the day he first held his baby boy in his arms.

Pieces Of Her...

I wrote this a little while back and for some reason I thought about it again so here goes nothing...

She needs to feel loved.
So she allows their hands
to search her body,
hoping they will bring her a piece of mind.
Exchange a piece for a piece.
Hoping to replace broken pieces with fixed ones
or better yet, restored.
But as she takes what she needs
they take what they can get
causing it to be a take and take relationship.
Leaving her still with nothing
to hold
onto except their naked body in her cold bed.

Once they fall
in love, she leaves.
Wishing their broken hearts healed her broken spirit,
that the pieces of her body were sacrificed
in good measure rather than in vein.
She clearly cries out
ohhhh with every climax,
praying that each time she cums
a piece of a piece of a piece of her heart
is mended.

XOXO

And To Think We Were Once Strangers...

This turned out a little more sexual then I intended....but I went with it.

You make me want to write,
about the feeling I get when you look at me like you're hungry,
like for a slight moment you are remembering how I taste on your lips,
and the only way to satisfy your craving is to taste me again.
You make me want to sit down and write,
about the tingles that crawl up my spine when you accidentally brush my skin on purpose.
Write a poem about that smirk you get when you're thinking
of me in a way you shouldn't be thinking.
Which gets me to thinking too...
about...mmm...yeah how I want to write.
You make me want to focus all my energy into writing a poem,
find the exact words that can describe to a tee
how you make me wanna...
how I just cant wait to...
write.


XOXO

Ayer, Hoy y Manana...

As we sit here, thinking about yester-year and who we used to be a day ago, reality settles reminding us that who we were is probably not who we are. And one can only hope that through the process of growth who we are today is not who we want to be tomorrow.


XOXO