Wednesday, June 22, 2011


I could feel the fear in her
when she told me of her days.
There was always the frame
of yesterday's pains.

She was beautiful to me but
felt ugly and old.
The hell in her mind
was dark and cold.

Her stories were soaked in tears
had the scars of cigarette burns,
cheating girlfriends,
untrustworthy friends.

She idolized her father
as if he were a Buddhist monk.
He loved her so much
he only beat her severely
when he was drunk.

She willingly gave with love to anyone,
felt little returned.

She had a thing for crispy clean rappers, became a baby's mother
to a jealous abusive lover.

Spent nights with me hiding thinking someone was out to get her. I wonder if she ever felt safe anywhere.

Sometimes I can still feel her small body
on mine and how hard she slept.