The End (of January)

The End (of January)

What do you do when you’re all alone?
When you’ve given your heart to some
And your soul to none?

When you let some in
Then you close your shell again…

When you take off your jacket because he says it’s warm

Then he leaves you in the cold

And it’s 10 degrees now

(I’m not talking Celsius) 

Your toes are freezing off
You can’t feel your hands and
You’re starting to nod off

You want this to end
You want it to stop 
But all you can think of is ripping him from his bed
Because of the rock 

And putting him in the blizzard

Taking his clothes

And burning them
Because if you have to stand in this cold,
He does too
And for warmth you don’t even want his clothes
They can’t even touch you

Because you may not have much
(Or you may have the world)
But you do have pride
So 
remember that, 
girl 

Don’t let him get you down
With his powder or his pot
Or his blonde hair and master of tongues
Or his money and his thoughts

Don’t think of any of them
They’re just people you see
They don’t understand why we’re here
You and me

Referencing my soul, 
of course
Trying to stay 
on course
Veering off and back again
Floating with the wind
Writing shit poetry because it flows from my veins
Like the alcohol from his
And are we here
To win?

How did I get here?
Acá? Así? 
To detest something so much, then to let it in
To keep my self shut
Then to break and bend

Have I bent until I’ve broken?
I’m not at rock bottom 
I don’t want to be, 
if that’s where they are…
I don’t want to be them.

I don’t care what the others think of me
I have morals and respect 
and I have values

Maybe I’m not cool, 
maybe they’re mad.

I don’t care. 
Mentira. 
It hurts.

But this is my life, 
and my world 
and I do things 
así
If you don’t like it, 
I’m still 
going 
to be 
me

And my mind is floating and wandering and I have so much to say
Three topics woven into one jumbled foray 
So I’m not making much sense, in your language or in mine

I don’t care if you like this one; I don’t care if you’re high.

Because you’re there and you’re you
And I’m here and I’m me
And in four weeks
It will be
The end 

The end of January.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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