La Pura Neta

My name is Mary. 5'3, medium brown hair that frizzes in the warmth. I like my shirts button to the top. Sometimes, I add my own bow made of left over ribbon from old gowns. My skirts are long and full. Its gets a little difficult for me to walk around when I need to get somewhere quickly but I really enjoy the sweeping movement it makes when I walk. Its as though I'm gliding. "Hi Mary". Its James. "Hi", I say shyly. I hope he doesn't notice my skin melting. "What is it you are writing? I always see you with your notebook and pen at hand. I thought I could sneak up to you this time to figure it out". Oh, that smile. Its so mischievious as if he knew his presence makes my pits sweat and my arms jiggle. "Just notes," I say. "But I must be on my way!" I say ratherly loudly and before he can object I walk in to the mist of morning traffic on Fletcher Street. I don't dare look back for fear he may be staring at me. Plus,...

There's things to care about and things that don't need much care for. What are those dire things? 

Never trust a word unless the words are coming from her Never able to question her motives though she scrutinized my own. I didn't know she had anxieties and I didn't know I had my own Then came the day my child was born. I feared for myself, for himself, because it took them a second to smile, they banged the dished too loud, they forgot to say hello. These thoughts were all my own. But the machine churning them was not something that was just born It came from her I believed every word she said. I was smart, I was lazy, very needy Until I dared to utter names back to her You ignore us, you need us, you talk to us when it is a convenience to you. So, I've split you. I was told  the splitting was something done subconsciously To help me understand what was going on when she Would do things and say things that contradicted the peace I believe  she tried to give to me I understand her and I don’t and i...

Back when it was all so simple No need to think No need to explain Why things and places change Why people act nice and mean and strange Playing hide and seek and being touched Long limbs pulling you from the dark Monsters in closets and under beds Words heard from all around you repeating in your head You wouldn't understand Your just a kid You'll get it once you get big Back when it was all so simple The goal was to see how far you can go On a swing On the track Away from the smack -ing of lips and tongues defining your mistakes as forever lasting. Shit changes You change Back in the day when it was all so simple You moved far north and came back down whenever you could but transportation wasn't as simple in your neck of the woods The lengths you had to go to move from the fingers reach  We would talk about those days And how it all used be simple We'd laugh it off until tears poured from our eyes I found out you passed Saturday at  6 am Getting up that early was neve...

Distant beats heard clearly Of memories and dreams still with me I inhale to exhale whats in me Enjoying this moment just with me A lone c ool breeze comes to me Through my third story window  

I sit here drinking Just thinking and over thinking Every sound your words make  I try dressing and undressing every vowel, syllable, and pause of your sentences. I write small tiny script even though that's not my type. I write shamefully, in embarrassment, these words that paint the images created in my mind. My strands of hair sit lifeless on my thumb as I write. I don't move them- I like the image of wholeness it makes. The idea that I have not fallen apart. Now my type is cursive, it's swayed letters melting into one another. The sudden strength building up as the ink flows through. Who do I love. Is it you, him, her, me. Them, us, my ideas, my thoughts. I love my mother and she loved me. So here we go again to being my fucking drama bee. making shit up from what I pick up on the streets. The bows, the toys, the dirt and rocks I like to display next to your piece. Fuck, where is home? I forget. Is it only on nights when we fuck in bed. Is it wishful thinking to dream u...

I appreciate these times On my own In my head Clear as day. No worries No torments Nothing to be said. I love these moments alone And loneliness Just sounds and thoughts I wish I had pen and paper To hear the subtle scratching and feel the urge of my willing mind I appreciate my love The time he gives me I love me I love thee Drifting to the night where we smoked pot by the trees