The Girl in The Bake Shop Window

Every morning, as I'm on my way to work, I pass by a small bake shop.
It is as if I could almost smell the freshly baked bread, as if it seeps through the walls and kisses me, softly.
Growing up, my step father was a baker for some time, and that smell brings back happy memories.
But as I smile, thinking of a once happy childhood, I notice the girl in the window.
As she is settling the loaves and pastries, neatly for public display, her face is meek.
Her smile is non-existent and her thoughts seem to be elsewhere. She notices me looking at her
and just as I am about to smile a simple 'good morning'
she quickly averts my gaze and is consumed in her thoughts again.

I wonder if she knows something I don't,
or if she'd care to know what I do.

untitled

She sat , glued to the computer screen, brain typing out words faster than her heart could beat, and then it was finished. Hard work dedication, a lil procrastination, a first for her, but she did it, it was finished.she gets home and faces another screen, except these words before her eyes are slowin her heart beat, breathing deep, is this true? are you telling me he isn’t here anymore? Are you telling me that this life really isn’t forever? Are you tellin me that we are really here and gone tomorrow? No no no this cant be true. but there, among the black and blue, the red becomes visible, I can almost see it now. His body crushed beneath the weight of it all, his heart stopped beating. And he is no more. What about you? Are you okay? Can your heart keep beating after all this? I know it may not want to, but my dear, it has to. You have to keep going, take that crushing weight and push it over , right off your shoulders, cause tho this life will only get colder, there is truth that is hiding behind every corner, just let your heart beat you can hear it growing slower yet bolder don’t let the boulders of fear let you sit bolstered by tears, be bold n behold the sheer weight of Love. The years won’t let up, the pain won’t be enough, and the skin will only get tough, so look up, there is a place to rest, if you only let your heart take you there. It is finished. 

Anymore

thoughts of you
weigh me down
and though I know I can break free
I am afraid to really be me
to be the me without you
although there is no physical sense of you left here
I keep replaying all the reasons
that caused us to not be right for each other
anymore

and I can't help but wonder if I cross your mind

I miss your sillyness and lack of rhythm
and I miss your passion
there's so much that I still hold onto
Lord knows I try to let go
but it's hard when you make it so easy to forget the bad
and remember all the good we had
it's so sad

but I assume that our love means nothing to you
anymore

I hope I'm wrong but I pray for peace and live on.

Shadows

Who am I ?
I ask myself this as I get a quick glimpse of where my intentions lie
Why do I try to write amazing lines and grapple with clever word play
my first bite of the rotten apple
so now all their eyes focus on I
 instead of Him
Where do I begin?
It all started from a passion within but I overshadowed The Passion He Lived
But only for a moment, because the Truth of why I live and why I am offended by my sin
is never downplayed when The Son casts over my shadows and I can't see them again
lets press replay
Where do I begin? It all started from a passion within but I overshadowed The Passion He Lived
But only for a moment, because the Truth of why I live shines when The Son casts over all my shadows and I can't see them again
those shadows like bad flows are exposed and so I stand in the Light, Lord humble me once more,
because I think I can think I can but they flip the switch and I am muddled into the floor
weighed down by the faux idea of wanting to be more
but by more I just mean noticed
will they notice the heart I put into this ? know this, my heart is brittle but this
Passion trickles from something more no riddle to miss, to explore this little bit
Can't ignore this little miss for wanting the world but oddly I denounce it for MORE
Maybe it all began from when the first man walked out without holdin my infant hand
For an infinitesimal minute I want to say that's why
Or maybe it all began from when the first man who took his place spread my purity and
My maturity was forced onto me and I want to say that's why
But to deny these things and their effect on my outlook of things would be foolish
And we know that fools rush in and the cautious just stay wading through the deep end
But im waiting for my turn to go off the deep end because I'm sure that the shore will never end even as I extend beyond the horizon, and I am diving head first with eyes closed And arms outstretched because time never waits for tomorrow

Salty Gravity

excuses
harbored beneath my eyes
"I'm sorry I'm not what you want"

days
seem to slip between our hands
"I'm sorry I can't change the past"

salt
flowing,
unceasing,
pulled by gravity
"I try but you keep
pushing me away....."

down,
it lingers,
nestled in the pores of my face
but gravity always wins.
it rests untouched,
but only for a moment..

my hands
ascend with hope,
hoping to find solidarity,
only to find the salt dancing among black smears.
these streaks now pressed against my cheeks,
and my fingers feel the weight of gravity,
and despair,
as they are pulled violently back down to the concrete.

"Every weekend its the same sad story"

Bridges (original song)

Teenager

It's so funny how even seven years after the fact,
you can still make me feel like I'm fourteen...
completely Helpless,
a disgrace to the family,
an utter nuisance;
like I should stay locked in my room and not breathe your air.
I'm sorry.
I promise to change.

But I close the door and throw myself onto my bed,
try to drown myself with the warmth of my sheets,
and hum as loud as I can.
This way, I can barely hear your yells and the shattering glass.
I'm sorry.
What did you say?

But then my own thoughts break through:
Why did I come back here?

They say home is where the heart is,
but who were they?

The Sacred Heart

a Heart so fragile
yet so strong
the one you keep drawing me to
and i can't resist...
my safe haven
and refuge

i can breathe again.

Come Alive

Where I'm coming from

I am from a broken heart,

From a man with no name and no face. 

I am from the balance between life and death,

From a miracle that kept fighting against all odds.

I am from a home of premature faiths,

And loud disagreements.

I am from halal and kebobs,

And  arroz con leche.

From "Mash'Allah" 

and "Si, se puede!"

From undecipherable Marks and 

sixty-six love Letters.

I am from tightly interlaced fingers

And reverent closed eyes.
I am from ears that were first opened
to the sound of fatherly love
after eighteen years of silence. 

I am from music notes and careful words,

From colorful impulsivity and

repentant recollection.

I am from Hands that kept molding

And keep holding me in one piece.

I am from the hood,

From red and blue flashing lights,

from accidents on purpose, 

from stolen wombs 

and blood on white 

December nights.

I am from gunshots and

scarred wrists, 

from open arms and innocent dreams

on cold and gritty New York streets.

I am from lost fantasies and better realities

From depression and from Hope;

I AM from Love.

I am from Peace.


*this poem inspired this song: