I promised to never cry a single tear for you again. I promised to never write about your eyes again. In the past is where your smile belongs. Yet, today I asked myself: Can promised be broken?
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Letters, To The Men I Have Loved
When people part ways where does the LOVE go? Mirtha Michelle Castro Marmol is a Dominican born actress and contemporary poet. At the age of five her family migrated to Miami, Florida. She wrote her first poem at the age of six and since then culti
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Parts of me wanted to ask you to stay. To keep fighting for me. To fight for us. But a certain ideology impeded me from doing so. The idea that when someone loves you enough, they will stay on their own, without you asking them to.
Will you miss me when I'm gone? Lie if you must. But please say you will.
Tell me you love me with your eyes, for they hold the truth of your inner soul.
I want to study every corner of your body, all of which that makes you whole. I want to find every key, for every secret you keep behind closed doors.
The weather changed after you left. It's no longer warm, and the wind now has traces of cold in it.
I need you tonight. More than last night and the night before.
On occasions my heart you have destroyed, I cannot let you do the same once more.
You want to play me, I can see your moves. Little do you know, I'm not a toy. This is not a game.
He doesn't realize that every time he lies, he's committing suicide in front of me. He's killing everything I see in him.
It is obvious that you and I will never be, anything close to what we were, and everything we could have been.
There is a thin line between love and hate. And I swift from hating you, to loving you, to hating you all over again.
Here I am, my love hasn't flickered. I will always love you.
You felt lost, and when I found you, who was I to think my love could keep you.
I gave you the sun but you wanted the moon. When I gave you the moon, you wanted the stars.
You are gone. Forever, we said goodbye. But sometimes when the sun sets, the ghost of you, trickles and circles this room.
A woman's heart shouldn't be judged by the amount of times it has been broken, but more for its strength to know when to walk away.
That's how the weak are destroyed. They meet someone stronger who doesn't love them enough.
I might laugh and moan, and adore the things you do with your tongue, but that isn't love. I want more.
I don't believe in regrets, but I'm haunted tragically by the day I lied to you and told you I did not love you anymore.