Knife

Knife

Proper Grip

I run my fingers over the edges and dips of the knife in my pocket. 

It is 6:30am and it is November. The sun has yet to offer peace of mind and the street lamp timers still believe the sun rises at 6am. 

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Poem Two

Poem Two

There is power in the woman who fights..
whether cut, bruised, or sore...
she continues
She fights for the sake of herself-for a peace within-
She fights to live and be free instead of solely exist
For dreams, for family, or whatever it may be, 
she continues...

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Poem One

Poem One

I found the sun in the middle of winter,
and a rose in the middle of a storm
Shelter when hail fell from the sky,
and though Life's wind chill was bitter, I was warm

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Latina Rebel

Latina Rebel

After emerging from the shower
She looks in the mirror and states:
“I still have lipstick on.”
And the memories of last night flood in
The dancing, the joy, the laughter.
And for the first time in a while
The sense of belonging – finally.

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I Am Not/I Am

I Am Not/I Am

I’m not the girl who looks like she stepped out of a magazine. I’m not tan, my hair isn’t long and blonde, my teeth aren’t sparkling white, and I’m not what you would consider “skinny.”

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Thirsty

Thirsty

How many times have I dreamed of a Daddy?
A man with a plan, a love of his family,
A man who would care; a father who’s there,
Who would guide me and love me, maybe even hug me
Who’d share his drink, teach me to think

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