je'suis elle

sometimes she worried
that she was too happy. 
she would sink into 
moodiness, and snap at 
Obinze, or be distant. 
and her joy would 
become a restless thing,
flapping its wings inside her, 
as though looking for an 
opening to fly away. 

— Chimamanda Adichie 

"british colonization has…"

- 3 word story - …

"you are what you kiss"

- Dickhead  (via je-suiselle)


Everything we knew
will be no longer
and we shall have
only memories
to grasp on to
on those days when
we need it most
I cry these tears
for all of us whom
have experienced lost

"what does your tears taste like?"


born on the wrong side of
worn shoes, ain’t winning.
feeling fire from calves
beating through hearts.
sweat pouring out of eyes.
pushing harder,
carrying wrong nations
across chests.
crowds cheers in anger
w/ torches in their forbidden hand, 
right? left 
is a shell of 
a runner                    
with no legs
I swear. 


- inspired by
Nina Simone 
"Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood" 

confused about her difference, 
she and them; 
one in the same…
her smile, her charm, her flair,
her skin and beauty (one in the same),
stirs up hate, anxiety, fear, confusion 

hope for others in the
minority whom 
souls mirrors hers
is all that exist,


in a world of isolation; 
(I) yearn through gullibility
to make things right 
in places perceived
as worse than 
my own.
deflection, perhaps? 
pure love from
a painful understanding

is the whisper
i console myself
back to in a state of


more than a 
(w)hole, but to 
thrust his frustration
in. her nails gripped the 
back of his hope whispering
for more, but none offered. non-
committal emotions penetrated
the depths of her soul. his empty
release was the very inception of her
ignominious defeat. expected something
other than disappointment (again & again), she
birthed her bitter remorse and watched the remains 
flush away down the grimy gutter right where he belong.

(Source : je-suiselle, via je-suiselle)

bare love…

can you imagine the feeling of being unloved? 
lightening strikes the heart 
rain pouring down her cheeks 
heart aches for a touch 
she cries out 

no love 

numb from it all
throat burned from the cries
pillow wet from tears
lonely heart wrenches
the pain so familiar
everything else so foreign
spoke to Him
ears dead
can’t hear Him back
have a nice life…

(Source : je-suiselle, via je-suiselle)


being a pondering weirdo whom speak a language only a few understand is beautiful, especially when you’re not trapped in your own personal hell at those times when even your mind can’t wrap itself around your mind.

(Source : je-suiselle)


i miss home,
but unsure of
where home is

oh, this feeling!

Oh, weekend is over already?


She is a vision of ocean waves as she leaves her sand-printed tracks on the bricked street, its color fading, its texture weathered from the varied walks of life every day. The sun is up as her soul is trying to rise above the clouded sky. The busy roads are her constant movie filming 40 km/h. Her long week has just begun.

some time ago

I’ll be sitting
in the
window seat
over skies
sipping on
warm tears  
as I whisper
- To the clouds -
I look for a God
wondering if He’s 
and if I’ll see you

adios siete