why don't just try?

i hate to bring up this topic
it's quite a secret of mine
there's this smell i'm starting to like
when not so long ago
just a sip of it
used to make me cry

i mean, if i'm honest
my inner self knows it reeks
it's purely objective, a fact, the universal truth
that just a drag will cloud your eyes
and make you gag
and it would be so easy to blame so many people
i'm looking at you dad
but that would be running away
so yeah, let's do that

i blame you, dad
maybe if you hadn't smoked
since pretty much i was alive
i would smell that awful smell
and not link it to your hugs

i blame you, friend that gave me
that first cigar
why don't just try?
we're all gonna die, anyway

i blame you, all those movies i've watched
where all the pretty girls smoked

i blame you, being cold outside a club
and this is quite self-explanatory

i blame you, all the terraces in the universe

i blame you, that fourth glass of beer

i blame you, playing music in the park

i blame you, smoking grass

i blame you, not holding back

i blame you, my cloudy mind

and i blame you, being too tired to give a damn
that chino at 3 am
its smell on your hands
that final breath
and making stupid excuses to forgive myself

us and them

you opened up your lips
formed a pretty curve with your mouth
and the shape became a sound
he wasn’t expecting
but don’t blame him
how could he know
that you would say no
that’s just ridiculous
you cannot say no to him
this much you owe to him
there’re things
a man needs
and if you’ve both shared a kiss
and more
why would you say no
you’re eternally his
who cares if it was a one-time thing
if you were drunk
and have come clean
that doesn’t mean anything
at least not to him
so who cares about that sound from your lips
who cares if it’s turned into begging
there’re things 
a man needs
and you are one

you found him in a bar
and he’s mad
but it’s fine
he’s fine
he just gets like that
when he’s a bit drunk
but seriously
he’s a nice guy
he is a nice guy
and someone’s yelling at him
pushing him out
but it’s really just fine
everybody is having fun
let’s not ruin that
everybody is having fun
right

i opened up my eyes
welcomed my buzzing head
after a long hazy night
i’m lying on his chest
and heavy breaths surround me
but i can’t stop thinking
about this friend of mine
who almost got punched yesterday
it’s just too strange to grasp
how rejection can scar so much
someone would go that far to demonstrate
he’s a man
and there’re things he just needs
but kindness isn’t one of them
while i dress myself
while i walk home
while i write
there’s this knot in my stomach
i can’t untie
you see
it’s not the first time
i’ve faced a man 
who couldn’t take no for an answer
and i didn’t blame him
how could he know
that i would say no
that’s just ridiculous
i couldn’t say no to him
that much i owed to him
he was my boyfriend
there were things he used to need
and i was one of them

a woman's voice

mud over my eyes
gets in my sealed lips

i forget the long-dead hands
mine are holding me back

ivy reaches my stomach
branches hide under my navel

when it takes root in the neck
can't talk i'm made of mud
can't push you back having no hands

if only i could tell me
your voices carry
my broken body home

(original)

the window sill

my house is pretty small
and the walls are paper-thin
i can hear my neighbour snore
the steps of the upstairs dog
and i’m sure they all know
it’s my mom who’s always yelling
my room makes a pretty cage
with windows flanked by bars
but it wasn't all like that
when i was little

i'm eight years old
i always sit on the window sill
and let my legs swing through the bars
it's way past my bed time
after looking at the cats
that lie down on the back garden
a lady feeds them every day
i don’t know her
but i love her
as much as i know love
i'm eight years old
and when my legs swing
if my house is small
or if my neighbour is too loud
are things i cannot think of
all i can see is my room
made of the green grass and daisies
the birds leaping branch to branch
the cats dozing in the shade
and i can hear my own voice
in the sound of people walking by
i feel the breeze in my hair
all the cats have a name
and i’m real

i don’t remember when my legs
no longer fitted
i don’t remember if i ever missed it once
i'm too old to live in my back garden
too old to fail to see
after they robbed my little house 
there’s twice as many bars
and my child’s legs won’t ever fit

blankets

i have to confess
i’m struggling a bit
trying to find the right metaphor
it’s nothing like a missing limb
or losing your favourite toy
and i shouldn’t be struggling
i’m an expert in the field, you know
a professional player
in the art of missing people
since i don’t think i’ve ever stopped 
trying to fill someone’s absence

it may have started with my family
leaping from holiday to holiday
from mess to mess
they still laugh at the image of me
mostly a mist of ugly tears 
while clasped to my uncle’s leg
before he entered the car
and left to Madrid
i’ve always been on the other side of the railway
waving to a moving car
waiting for the next time
wondering if 
maybe
i would not cry again

other times i simply missed my friend
after a two-week school trip
i longed for the long walks
or the chit-chat during recess
the empty chair of a room we didn’t even share
having to wait while she brushed her teeth
or tied her shoes
and the two-hour calls before going to bed
falling asleep with the phone in my hand
and butterflies on my lips

at least all these feelings made sense
i missed people who loved me well
whose memories of them tuck me in like blankets

but for years i’ve missed 
the boy i first kissed
even if it was clumsy, shy, and senseless
even if he told me to die because i rejected him
you see, i didn’t even want to kiss him in the first place
but i was stupid and naïve
and he wanted to kiss me
but i am stupid and naïve
and sometimes dream of him, too

and for months i have longed for
the texts, the calls, the love
of someone i didn’t truly know
i’ve missed the attention i seeked
in somebody who could have been anybody
but it was him
a good boy
who could have been any good boy
but this may be the exception
since i had learned a lesson or two
and for once, my dreams could move on

but at least all these feelings made sense
i missed people who didn’t break me
whose real versions were just misplaced in my mind

why then
would i find myself missing
for the longest of times
the man who did break everything
who closed all the doors i didn’t know i was hiding
whose memories of him tucked me in my bed
and didn’t let me get up
and break free of the sheets he wrapped me in
every time i started building me up
he suddenly appeared
knocking out cold every structure i held dear
shaping it with his warm hands
warm, and shaky, and sometimes terrifying
and even when i knew everything
was flaking off like cheap paint
when i recognised
every gap and breach under his palms
i still missed him
before and after i fell down the gap
i still missed him 
and i sometimes miss who i was
before i tried to find metaphors
for this foolish longing

it’s hard to find words for a feeling
that’s so broad and heavy
it carries railways and toothpaste
wet lips and good boys
broken locks and trembling hands
so tender and light
it fuels my naïve self
into sugar-coated memories
of men who passed by
while i was on the other side of the railway
waving to a moving car
waiting for the next time
wondering if 

maybe

i would not cry again

manos de agua

miro hacia atrás
como si no hubiera nubes
el ahora me empuja
con sus manos de agua

trepa desde el ombligo
se asienta
en el centro del pecho
como una aguja

la hierba me mece
clavándome en el techo
las manos se preguntan
dónde estoy

-

the words slur
the words slur
the words slur
the words slur
the words slur
thewordss lurr
thewordsslrllr
likemusicnotes

never mine

lately i’ve been having the weirdest dreams
well
they’re actually not that weird
they just seem so vivid
so real
it’s hard to wake up and think there’s something else
first
i always see my face
my eyes
my mouth
or at least
i think they’re mine
i think it’s me
and then it’d be the nose
the hair, the hands, the heart
that can’t help but change
into someone else’s
i don’t really know
it seems my defenses
are always off
and open to other’s arms
they don’t know me at all
or who knows?
maybe they do
and they love the look in my face
when it’s full of regret
when it fades away
like the smoke of a cigarette
that it’s never mine
lately i’ve been having the weirdest dreams
well
they’re actually not that weird
they just stick in my head
as they cling me to bed
and i can’t help but feel
i won’t know the person that smiles to the mirror

i munched and gulped down
and i suddenly was ten
drooling, laughing, thriving
seeing the room as the planet
up in my spaceship 
the doors ate me up
and bathed me 
with colours
i’d never seen before

the mirror

it's like wearing a stranger's skin
begging for a little warmth
fading in your foul breath
of course
it's not easy to 
see yourself in others' eyes
and fail to grin at the mirror
but you understand, right

it's like standing naked
under your own veil

loneliness, that is

vosotras

me cubren los ojos con barro
cae en mis labios cerrados

olvido las manos que cuelgan
son mías las que me sujetan

llega a mi vientre la hiedra
en mi ombligo las ramas se esconden

y cuando se asienta en el cuello
cómo hablar si soy de barro
cómo apartarte si no tengo manos

me gustaría decirme
son vuestras voces
quien me devuelven mi cuerpo

purpose

cross that desert
swim that river
reach that moor

please

even if it's only 
to let women after you
reach a bit further

i wish every year that passed
you grew a year younger
maybe at forty we could drink wine
and laugh at our partners together
at fifty i'd help you move out from college
and yet cry again when you left home
at sixty i'd tell you
you're the best woman i've ever known
at seventy i'd hold you in my arms
and hushed you to sleep
i'd bathe you with parfumes
and smile as you discover
how big the world is
but it would never get to be
a greater love than yours

- mom

wingless moths

if they met my eyes
entangled hands
quizzical glint
and asked
would you like to know?
lips
unable to part
i'd nod
i'd lay on my back
is there a sea on the ceiling?
and i'd leave after a while
as if a fast motion
could shatter me —glass—
i'd kiss goodbye the door
my brain has escaped my body
what lies ahead needs to be filled
with wingless moths
paint over dust
my honey limbs
will drop when you don't look
this is why
love
i could never let you taste
the nectar in my mouth
these bees sing me to slumber

we

i used to look at you
you were so tiny
and knew so little

i still can reach you
in the blink of an eye
i'll see you under the blankets
after so many nights
counting back from one hundred
and talking to god

now your hair's longer
always dreaming about college
the world's about to grow
but you're still so tiny
and know still so little
you've started looking back

i just wonder if you're tired
if you've finally learned something
are you seeing through me now?

siete bolitas

una bolita negra
que se acerca
me besa el zapato

hay otra blanca
que me mira
se relame los labios

la gris se me sienta
entre mi ropa
se queda dormida

y yo no hago nada
estoy atrapada
en este día de otoño

doors

too often stuck in between
the words i left behind
understand
it's easy to just shut my eyes
and 
fall

when i said let me go
you laughed
and stood by the door

i'm sure you just thought
you were so romantic

it was not the first time
and i still kept silent
i
silent

it happened again
in another country
when i found myself free

but
if i was free
why did he block the door 

i'm sure he doesn't even remember
he'd laugh it off over a coffee
and i was erased

it's that simple, right

too often stuck in between
the words i left behind
please, understand
it's easy to just shut my eyes
and 

fall

my legs

golden threads climp up
climb down
while some of us can't see them
there's others who'll look
and try to pull them out
unaware that when they do
the gold'll turn black in their fingers
and with a dry taste in their mouths
their smiles will drop in an instant

i used to look at her from the clouds
and it felt good
and windy
and cozy
as easy as putting a penny in your pocket

i just didn't know what would sting the most
wouldn't be the fall
but not knowing
if i'm under
or above

just thinking that it'll never be
besides

we've grown too apart to notice

- some people are so bitter

pobre, perdida, pequeña

pronunciaré estas palabras

aunque corrompan este poema
aunque no pueda probarlas
prometo pisar esa piedra
para no parar
pero siempre sin prisa, perpleja
pequeña
de párpados pegados
sin creer mis propias promesas
porque a veces perderé si pienso
en tu pelo tu pulso tu cuerpo

donde no los quiero