repost: If you forget me by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But 
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

repost: "to date a writer"

they say, "never date a writer".full of metaphors and comparisons, they can mentally sketch you into submission.
some writers will send you gift-wrapped poems that warm up the soul . microwave ready, but hardly oven-type steady.
others are filled to the top with empty rhetoric, spinning your heart and mind in a whirlwind of words that mean absolutely nothing. - just pretty language that knocks you over the head like a wooden club.
most writers are lazy, emailing an "i dedicate this to you" song ... where the 'one size fits all' lyrics will sneak their way into the cracks of their victim's heart.

the mystery in writing is the master of it all -
words can tie you down and tear at the mind, make you wonder, and perhaps put your hopes so high in the air that it'll BREAK into pieces when it falls.
writing is an art because it paints - paints & portrays feelings [sometimes false] and inserts ideas where they were never welcomed in the first place.
manipulative they are, writers.

but oh, TO DATE A WRITER.
using words to massage your ego, insecurity or doubt. they can express love in ways that bend the mind into amorous yoga - twisting and tapping the tender places in our soul.
words can liberate the masses, but chain one person in love. writers are said to use their words as windows to their mind; but i think they're more so like kaleidoscopes - thought portrayed through colors and shapes ... but R A R E L Y straightforward and seen in full view.

In the bible, the tongue/speech is likened to a sword. it truly is powerful. we, as writers get to choose how we use the power of words. 

love sonnet XVII by pablo neruda

I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. 

repost: "dark & twisty"

it only takes a second to shift a life.
blue skies can drain of color and moisture leaving
the tops of the world dry with hues of grey.
smiles lose their balance in the crowded dance floors of pain and fall.
every moment, somewhere-
calm ponds behind the eyes flood down hills of cheeks and chins.
french horns play in yellow dressing rooms and reveal themselves
as solemn violins.
it only takes a phone call to make small hopes into realities.
a simple warm moment of leeway can put infinite joy on lay-a-way.
a kiss can dig a grave, or raise the dead.
a confession can slit the wrists of dreams.
Oh God!
if only the tightrope of spontaneity and hesitation were not such a fine line.
diving into a pool of uncertainty-
spreading your wings into the deep side.
ORcracking your face in a shallow end.
i guess it only takes a second.

you never know when your life will change forever. making a right at a corner instead of a left can make all the difference. random trips to the mall, starbucks, or the movies can turn the direction of your future. it's quite astounding actually. think back, have you ever met someone who changed your life in a way you never imagined? have you ever said "YES" or "NO" to an option and it changed everything? pretty tricky stuff ...

amor.

"and they say love is in the air; so i ... hold my breath 'till my face turn purple..."

im just kidding. valentine's day is a cool holiday- it's a national attempt to stop and pay homage to the lovers in your life. Yet, valentine's day is NOT the holiday to run around like a chicken with your head cut off, trying to find someone to have feelings for. i have come from a family full of romance and love. i think it's a beautiful thing. in the spirit of valentine's day, im posting about romance this week :) enjoy.

VALENTINE'S DAY

Okay . people (including me) get sick and tired of Valentine's Day hype ... especially if you aren't in some romantic restaurant with a special someone lol . BUT, lets not hate on the couples that are surviving in a crazy, media-obsessed, network-crazed, love hopeless, technological fanatic world lol . MY TOP 5 COUPLES THIS V-DAY :

Adriana Lima & Marco Jaric [married now]: this couple is too cute for my life ! Victoria Secret model, Adriana Lima, was abstinent until marriage and a devout Christian. Marco was kind of a quirky, shy professional athlete who fell in love and HAD to wife her lol .


Lisa and Ed Hartwell : Ed, a former NFL player and Lisa, the hilarious, LA-native personality on The Real Housewives of Atlanta are such a genuine couple . They seem to truly be best friends. They went into business together selling homes and she tells him what he needs to hear, even if he doesn't wanna lol . After her heartbreaking divorce with singer Keith Sweat and child custody battle, Ed was really a rock for Lisa . Their friendship stands out the most .They're cute (:

Beyonce and Jay: come on now . this power couple took over the music industry and i think what's most admirable about this couple is their privacy . With the slip of a "resentment" song or two ...the couple keeps their business to themselves . Im so tired of people sayin, "Jay-Z is not cute enough for B". So what . She can truly get any guy she wants, so she got the guy she wanted duh lol . Not to mention, if a couple can unconsciously make THAT FACE at the same time lol ...they're meant to be (:

Barack and Michelle Obama: enough said .

Edgar and Mildred Gater: sighhh . these are my grandparents, married for 50 years this past June . I don't know anyone who loves their spouse like they do. After three children and six grandkids, they're still cuddling on the couch watching the Laker game (both screaming at the television lol). This past summer, i sat down and talked with them about their past experiences . They stuck through a lot with each other. College, Near death experiences, money struggles, finding salvation, losing their daughter, strokes, & seizures . Nevertheless, they stick around and continue to be the epitome of a couple . That's love .

the top of the stairs .

At the age of eleven, Valentine’s Day could have been synonymous with groundhog’s day. I simply didn’t see the significance. All day, I was surrounded by teddy bears, roses, and chocolate. "Is this what love is?" I wondered vacantly. I ran down the seventeen stairs and felt a shock of nausea at the sight of my grandparents cuddled on the couch, kissing. My aunts were making my uncles’ plates of food and hallmark cards with red hearts, and black couples were laid across the old-fashioned, floral table cloths in Nana’s dining room. My grandmother's foster daughters’ Krystal and Champagne were on the phone grinning from ear to ear with an abnormally high pitched tone in their voices. There must have been testosterone on the other end of the phone line. This hoopla made me want to avoid the bottom of the stairs all together.

I knew I could count on Christina to escape from the ruckus downstairs. Out of the three foster daughter’s in Nana’s house, Tina intrigued me the most. Her hair was jet black with a faded, green streak in her bangs that Nana made her cover with cheap, drug store, hair dye. Somehow, the green still peaked through the oppressive black color. Her ear lobes were stretched 'cause Nana made her take out her ear gages too. She had a hole in her nose where her silver ring used to be. She always said that no one understood her. “Stevi, what’s up niece?” she said, pinning up a rave flyer to add to her collection. Tina always snuck out to raves through the back window and down the balcony. Those flyers were blatant slaps in the face, undermining my nana’s strict reign. “Tina, what’s the name of the cute Backstreet Boy again?” I said, looking at the poster on her wall. “Lance!” she laughed, “You know, you don’t have to like him just because I do. You can like whichever one you want.” I blushed.

“Christina!” my nana yelled from the bottom of the stairs.
“what?”
“Excuuuuuse me?”
Tina sighed, “Yes Mom?”
“Adrien’s down here to see you.”
“okay! coming.”

My stomach sank. Once again, I was an awkward outcast as a result of Valentine’s Day. Adrien was just like Tina. He had tattoos at the age of sixteen and dark hair that was spiked up into some weird entanglement. I stuck my head outside of the door to see Adrien’s eyes light up as Tina hugged him. My nana walked away and reminded Tina that she was on punishment and her boyfriend couldn’t stay long. Tina rolled her eyes and gazed at me from downstairs, “You can watch TV in my room until I come back.” Without waiting for my reply, they walked outside. I was furious. I couldn’t believe that Christina gave into all of the commercial-chaos of Valentine’s Day.

Twenty minutes later, I heard Tina’s keys unlocking the door downstairs. Like a typical eleven year old, I had forgiven her and I just wanted someone to hang out with me. I peered down the stairs to see her walking up, grinning harder with each step she took. I thought about what she could possibly have to grin about? What did he do? Get her a teddy bear? Did he buy her jewelry? Did he give her chocolates? She hated chocolate. Tina glided into the room. Out of a plastic bag, she pinned up a picture that Adrien drew of a bleeding heart. By the looks of the drawing, I assumed he was devastated or something. Apparently not. “Look Stevi, Look!” she carefully placed a dozen dying roses on her wooden dresser. Two dark, crisp petals fell from the bouquet and she caught them quickly, still beaming. I smiled . “This is love,” said Christina quietly. I agreed.