The pink diary

 My dad gave me 

a pink diary 

so, I could write my emotions  

down 

 

he said it is a secret place 

for your thoughts to 

run off to 

 

I took care of the diary 

and I wrote on it  

consecutively 

my inner thoughts 

secrets                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

my words to expressed myself  

 

as I grew older 

writing 

 in the dairy  

was not a daily ritual anymore 

other things needed to be taken care of 

 

Suddenly, 

one day 

as I was cleaning my room 

 I could visualize a pink notebook  

within a pile of books 

It was the pink diary 

abandoned and  

 

Its missing pages were evidence 

of the neglect 

it had dirt  

the secrets were exposed  

its energy was loosened  

 

How would I write my secrets? 

and be my truly self 

with this broken diary 

 

After you departed 

 After you left 

I understood pain 

our memories stayed with me 

It felt like you were there 

with me 

 

The coffee mug  

from which you sipped  

talking about life with my grandmother
 

The dress 

you wore in your most important night 

with sprinkles of all your wishes 

 

Or your rocking share 

where you relaxed 

And talked about your dreams  

 

                           (your dreams  

                                       Included everyone) 

                                            

On the room which stills contains your spirit 

Is bed that you once slept on  

from being sane  

to being ill 

 

Your pillows  

that now have the smell 

of your estee lauder perfume 

 

Your favorite necklace  

hat 

clothing 

your smile when all of us were together 

concerns about the family 

jokes 

laughs 

 

Now your memory follows my soul  

 

I question 

when can I feel like 

it was okay to let go 

when is 

the time going to come. 

 

Our love story 

We both attend to the same school and that is our piece of joy. 

The lockers are witness of the affection we have for each other. 

His ocean eyes take my breath away and make send to moon. 

If people do not want us together, it does not matter to me. 

The name of our town is called Acapulco, and Piaget they call our school.  

My name is Grismarly and his name is Alex. 

 

Only the night knows how we look at each other. 

Birds chirp every morning we see each other’s faces. 

My heart drops every time you say word to me. 

The hallways are guilty of making us see each other every day. 

The name of our town is called Acapulco, and Piaget they call our school.  

My name is Grismarly and his name is Alex. 

 

When your soft lips touch mines, they disintegrate and transport me to world we only know. 

The blue skies and the bright sun illuminate us our faces as we feel love. 

The breeze that touches your faces hugs me as we have our moment and feel free. 

In our world I feel safe because when your arms hug me they are like refuge. 

The name of our town is called Acapulco, and Piaget they call our school.  

My name is Grismarly and his name is Alex. 

 

I’m not perfect 

 I don’t have to be perfect 

I want to be myself: 

 

don’t tell me who to be 

clothes to wear  

who to date 

who to hang out with 

 

I need freedom 

fun 

new experiences 

comprehension 

true love 

have big dreams 

take flights 

go far 

 

Can you give me those? 

 

My heart desires 

oceans of opportunities 

A shoulder to cry on 

empathy    

rainbows skies 

wide paths 

protection 

right nights 

endless moments 

tights hugs 

loving individuals 

 

I need instead to follow the rules 

deal with the stereotypes 

systematic oppression 

be how my parents want me to be 

  

I have find my true self 

which I would only accomplish by: 

taking chances  

 

I must know  

what words to say to you 

to be the girl I want to be 

 

Let me be my true self 

Let me be me. 

 

 

 

 

Superpower 

It comes naturally 

the only task needed to do  

is to want to do it 

the relaxing sounds of  

the notes  

float through space 

as they adorn the moment  

It is music to someone’s ear 

A stage in a park 

parking logs 

Times square, Maine 

summer stages/camps 

one, two mic check! 

I leap different stages and vibes 

you need to know every note has to be on key 

being sharp or flat is unacceptable 

It is a must to a have a good tone 

listening to other people can be critical 

falsetto, mask, and full voice 

they say “what a beautiful voice you have” 

“you should be on television” 

“can you teach me how to sing?” “sing for me” 

the girl that once dreamed and once accomplished 

I am not the best. I try to 

I do these because my heart asks me to 

It makes me feel like home 

relaxed 

It makes me, me.