Days like These

Days like these

We worship.

We worship it,

Not for its perfection,

But for all the moments we wish we could have taken back.

For all the words we should have inhaled instead of spewed.

Days like these

We sit on our thrones alone

Because power comes at a mighty lonely price.

We practice our goodness but never quite get to genuine.

It’s days like these that remind us where we are.

Who has come before us

And how we will pave the way for the others.

Days that are long,
Hard,

And slow.

But worth every hustling minute.

We will remember the glory of these days

Not for its perfection

But for its purity.

Mornings with You

Collect my love puddles and recycle them back to me

Puddles from the sweat behind my knees, praying you and I will be.

Clutch the emerald rosary

between our fangs.

Pain lingers 

And that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Sink them deep, my crimson cabernet is yours to keep

Slackline on the silverlining to the highest star

Bring me back to my body

Only you,

The keeper of my puddles, my crimson, my heart.

-Words by Jasmine Duran and Luiz Castro

Narcissus

I saw you crying once. 

Outside of the bedroom late at night.
We had washed up after a party and dragged in the same old, bitter fight. 

Who was I to you? Why couldn’t you show?

So here we are:
You on the livingroom floor.
Me, peering through a crack in the bedroom I wished wasn’t ours. A hallway of mirrors fall between us and we cannot reach each other through our own reflection.
We would only see ourselves.

For Me

I did it.

I finally did it. I made it without you. 695 days, 9 hours and 30 minutes, but I made it. 

Months washed in regret,

Bathing in forgiveness.

Minutes rinsed by the moon and the sea.

Wet clothes on my back from fighting the tide and thinking you’d reach out for me.

I’ve made it to the shore.

I’m happy on the beach.

I just thought you like to know.

I made it.

For me.

Wind-Up Doll

Spin the timer on my back
And watch it lead me off the track
Catch me as I drift,
And pull me back a little bit
Be prepared when I may wane
But even more for lovers slain
I love the movement and the might
I’d love,
even more,
to finally
get it right