Ritual

Looking at the white ceiling,
Waiting to fall asleep,
Every beat of my heart says I miss you
Every brain cell scoff,
They remind me it wasn't real,
The unforgiving reason speaks up,
It points out it wasn't meant to be.
Still, the rhythm of my chest
Silently proclaims your name.
Only your name for the last half decade,
Your name said like a prayer
To a goddess that hears not
She isn't merciful, she isn't real.

*
Nov. 2014

Feminine

He wakes up in the middle of the night,

the too many drinks he had chew his insides mercilessly.

He comes back to his bed, it feels cold,

it always is when you're alone.

He sits on the edge of the bed, head

hung, a clear view of his empty belly.

He reaches and places a hand over it,

wishing it could be home for a life.

He curses his name again and again.

Hands too big, too much hair, body all wrong.

If only he could add an S to the way

he's called, three letters instead of two.

He mourns for what wasn't given to him,

for what he longs.

It's despair walking in his shoes, not the ones he wants.

Girl, woman, girlfriend, bride, wife,

mom, grandma, sweet melody he'll never listen.

Empty belly, empty

heart.

****

Not only I wasn´t able to post this before but also I´ve been wondering if it´s...if it could be offensive, of course it´s not my intention, not at all