Un(kept) promises - you coward

 You promised to stay.

You told me you were in this. That we were in this. That even if things got hard — with me, with my family, with life — you wouldn’t run.

And for a while, you did show up. You helped carry things I should’ve never had to carry alone. You made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t too much.

But then something shifted. Maybe you got tired. Maybe it got too messy. Maybe you saw an easier road and took it.

What hurts the most isn’t even that you left.

It’s that you didn’t say goodbye.

You slipped out of my life like someone who never planned to be there forever.

And that crushed me.

Because I was still fighting for us when you were already halfway out the door.

I needed closure. I needed answers. I needed you to look me in the eye and honor what we had — even if it was ending.

But you walked away. Quiet. Cowardly.

And I was left with questions that echo in my ribs when I’m trying to fall asleep.

So no — I’m not going to sit here and blame myself anymore.

I showed up. I gave love. I believed in you.

You just couldn’t do the same when it got hard.

And that’s on you.

I hope one day you realize what you walked away from.

And I hope I never forget what I’m worth again.

Things I Used to Believe In

1. That if I loved someone hard enough, they would never leave.

2. That being kind would keep me safe.

3. That love could fix things. Or at least make them bearable.

4. That someone out there would understand me—not just the surface stuff, but the storm inside.

5. That I could build a family, not just have one. One made of choice, warmth, late-night laughter, and safety.

6. That one day, my softness would be my power—not my weakness.

7. That my voice mattered, even when I wasn’t okay.

8. That being “difficult” just meant I was real. Not broken. Not unworthy. Just real.

9. That there was magic in the world. Not the glitter kind—just… meaning. Tiny signs that I wasn’t alone.

10. That healing would come. Maybe slowly, maybe sideways. But eventually.

I’ll help you burn it in ink / I saw you again

 Dear Ghost,

Ten years. That’s how long I gave you.

Ten years of my time, my trust, my heart.

And you didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.

You didn’t break up with me.

You broke me.

And then you disappeared.

Do you know what that does to someone?

To be left like a forgotten voicemail—like a book you got bored of halfway through?

To look at my phone for weeks, months, years, hoping silence might finally say something?

You didn’t just leave—you erased me.

I hope my memory finds you in the quiet moments.

I hope it lingers when you rock your daughter to sleep.

I hope when she asks you what love is, you feel a flicker of shame.

Because you had it. And you threw it away like it meant nothing.

I don’t wish you death. But I wish you reckoning.

I hope my name tightens in your throat when you try to lie to yourself.

I hope your happiness is haunted by the truth of what you did to someone who would’ve given you the world.

You don’t get to forget me.

I was real. I mattered.

Even if you pretended I didn’t.

All the things I gave him

The way I was always thinking of him—
of what he liked, what he said,
that he was alive at the same time as me.
I thought it was a miracle.

I turned him into a god I wanted to please so badly—
if he had asked for my arm,
I would have chopped it off myself.
But it was worse,
because he never asked.

And even then—

I gave him my heart.

I gave him my life.

I gave him my soul.

And then he left.

Sueños perdidos / tan tonta

 He estado pensando en todos los sueños que deje ir por el.

Deje de soñar con una familia, con una casa. Deje de soñar con vestidos, bodas, anillos.

Deje de soñar con sentirme querida.

Odio haberlo elegido para vivir mi vida, y no haberme dado cuenta que el no quería vivir. Recuerdo cuando le llore diciendo que pensaba que si tal vez yo me esforzará más, si hiciera más, si diera más de mi, el iba a tener ganas de vivir, de esforzarse más, de hacer más y que diera más de si. El mismo me dijo con su voz y sus palabras que no, no había nada de lo que yo hiciera dijera o fuera que lo hicieran a él cambiar lo que era. Y me sentí tan inservible e inútil, porque me había puesta como única meta el hacerlo querer vivir, y nunca pude.

Deje ir mi juventud, mis sueños y mi vida en alguien que no quería vivir.

Solo puedo llorar y pensar, en cómo fui TAN tonta.

Del mundo oscuro y todos los sueños que deje de soñar por él

 Conocí a dos chavos en el trabajo que son tan diferentes a el.

Trabajan.

Para empezar eso ya es una gran diferencia de el.

Les dan cosas a sus novias todo el tiempo.

Las incluyen en su futuro.

Y pienso, claro que las incluyen en su futuro, porque ellos por si mismos tienen un futuro. Ellas son un plus en sus vidas, la gente con la que eligen que quieren vivir.

El nunca me incluía en nada, y no era por mi. Era por el mismo, porque él no tenía un futuro, no trabajaba por nada. 

Siento que me duele el pecho pero es de caer en cuenta que como dicen, le estaba pidiendo peras a un olmo. 

Como podía esperar que me quisiera y me tratará bien, si no lo hacía ni por el mismo?

Es esto a lo que se refieren con que tienen que buscar a alguien que tenga ganas de vivir y de salir adelante.

Hablan de casas, de vida en conjunto. Mencionan regalos y cosas, no como una carga sino como algo de lo que se sienten orgullosos de poder dar.

No sé cómo fui tan ciega. Siento que en estuve tanto tiempo en un cuarto oscuro y de repente tiraron una pared y se hizo la luz.

El mundo es tan basto y grande y enorme, pero se me había olvidado porque me amarre a ese burro y su estaca.

El dolor que siento son mis ojos ajustándose a la luz, recordando, cuanto brilla el sol.

The us of another universe

 I had a dream about you the other day. It was weird. We were sort of like a family, with a kid and stuff. I was confused but somehow happy.

It went on and on following us in our daily routine. I knew I was dreaming and that it was stupid to keep going but I wanted to know how it would be like if you hadn't left.

I didn't woke up until at one point in the dream, where we looked into each other's eyes, you reached out to take my hand. I stared at it and was starting to stretch my hand to reach yours, and then, I woke up.

If it's true that dreams are us in another universe, I hope they are happy.

del abandono de las letras y la miseria continua

 Ayer alguien me pregunto si todavía escribo aquí. Le respondí que sí, pero retroactivamente. Me cuesta escribir ahorita porque hace una semana me compre unas postizas y todavía me cuesta acostumbrarme al movimiento de mis dedos con estas garras. ¿Qué pensaría de mí, la yo que empezó a escribir aquí hace más de 10 años? 

Ya no escribo como antes creo, porque siempre me da la impresión de que escribo sobre lo mismo y que todo lo que tengo que decir, ya lo dijo alguien más y seguramente mejor que yo. 

Solo escribo de lo que sufro, de lo que es mi existencia y el internet me hace pensar que todos vivimos la misma vida de una forma u otra, que ninguna experiencia es auténtica y que no soy diferente a nadie. Eso me libera y me mortifica a la vez, porque entonces me siento libre de simplemente ser sabiendo que todos sufren igual que yo, y me lastima porque entonces no le encuentro sentido al sufrimiento si no es único.

Yo solo quiero ser, no quiero estar. No quiero existir más en este plano, quiero irme y alejarme de todos y de todo, porque no entiendo como ser agradecida, no sé cómo sacarme de la cama, como querer salir y ver y hablar porque hace 10 años me parecía que era una persona interesante y que tenía tanto que dar, pero ahora siento que solo sé que no se nada, que no soy interesante y que estoy vacía y no tengo nada que dar.

Todo lo que me gusta, todo lo que hago, todo lo que sé no le interesa a nadie y por algún motivo de nuevo eso me libera porque puedo ser yo sin vergüenza, pero me lastima porque pienso que mi yo verdadero nunca podrá ser reconocido ni amado por nadie.

Y así, como hace 10 años, siempre llego a la conclusión, de que soy miserable.

A(new)ther Love - Klara's remix

I would like to take you to all my favorite places, 

but all the memories I have of them are with someone else

I'll give you the roses that used to grow on my heart

but its spoiled land and they won't flower now

I wish I could kiss, made us feel alright

but Im so tired of bracing lonely nights

I want to cry and I want to love you

but I used my tears on another love

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up, up

If someone dares to hurt you, you know I'll fight

but my hands are cripple of fighting someone else's wars,

but I can use my voice, I'll be so freaking cruel

words wont hurt them but I'll still try to

and I'll write you verses that I've told no one else

but I've used all my lexus and gave it to someone else

And I want to cry, I want to learn of your love

but I used my tears on another love

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

Of love languages and neglect

I was thinking about the moments I valued the most from those few days, of how happy he seemed to be next to me. He would hold my hand all the time, and even look for it if I took it away for a minute.

I remember the tone of his voice and the smile on his face when he realized I had allowed him to be part of my life, because he knows I don't let people in my life that easily.

I remember his gentle touch when he kissed my forehead and the scowl on his face if I strayed away from him even in his sleep.

He held my hand in his, the room was dark and as we talk about who knows what, he scratched his eye with my knuckles. I remember the feeling of his eye leads on my skin, the moist of it forever in my memory. And his laugh as I asked him what was he doing and him not being able to say why he felt so comforted with my touch.

And the last night, I remember the way he swirl in bed and came close to me, eyes closed feeling the softness and warmth of my body, rubbing his face on my skin and letting go a big sigh of relief when he put his arm around me and hugged me. 

There I was, being loved and desired after so many years. After being told, we "no longer had to kiss that often now that we were 1 year into the relationship". Seeing his scowling upset face all the time, his huffs of dispairment when he was around me. How holding my hand and having me near him felt more like an obligation than something he enjoyed

How he was may be not even tired, more like annoyed or I would dare to say, grossed out of my company.

I think my love language has changed after that. Or I have discovered my second one if anything. I've always loved spending lots of time with the people I love, but now I also know, I like to be touched and kissed and hugged by my partner. After all the time I was neglected, and told how much of an annoyance it was for him to even kiss me on the lips, my new lover soft demeanor and smile on his face when he was around me, reminded me of something I had lost hope so long ago, an unthinkable concept.

That I am lovable too.

Qui(e)t

 I have a new lover and I dont know how to deal with it.

I wish to tell him so many things but I get paralyzed with the memories of the way you treated me when I spoke my mind.

Im so afraid of being unlovable that I become numb.

I hate how the wounds that you caused me are so not healed yet. How they are ripping open when my new lover's kind hand moves gently over my skin. I feel the cuts and scratches bleeding again.

Im not healed yet, Im not ready yet.

I wonder if I'll ever be. So insecure and sad and hopeless. 

So from all the marvelous things I want to tell my new lover, when I look at his eyes instead I see yours, and so, I say nothing.