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Nadia Figueroa Poems
Something always brinks me back here. Your love for me is a question, my love for you is a chain. I dive into your eyes
Can you teach me to control hallucinations? I torture myself with recreations.
A Word Is Worth One Thousand Pictures
Have you ever read a word, Just a single word that was so powerful you could feel it?
The First Of The First Of Every
We sit in a meadow, looking up at the sun until we’re looking at stars. Laying in a fairytale. Every inhale is lavender and every exhale is silk. As her head laid on my lap, I stroked her hair gently and it was my way of telling her how beautiful the moment was and of the perfection I found in it. Her stillness told me that she loved it too.
Dressed With Dust
She wore a hot pink band-aid on her finger. It covered the torn skin That was clawed and bit, But the little hands still trembled with insecurity.
An old wise man told me “Life is an endless road” Maybe he was older than he was wise. Life is not constant paved path.
Silent room, a white blank room This jacket holds me in my tomb Close my eyes, I’m going blind From blood and tears mixing with lies
I am indefinable. I am a soul, not a color, Not a number or a shape, And more than a simple name.
I was in a flawed world Searching for perfection. I had no sun or moon. I lived in a blemished shadow.
Red. My heart flames like a dying sun. My eyes flutter, then shut. My reflection shines
He wore a golden cross Draped around his neck. I told him It would melt like any other piece of metal.
World of Ashes
We are born. We start the fire. Wood or stone on gas and wire.
Comments about Nadia Figueroa
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Something always brinks me back here.
Your love for me is a question,
my love for you is a chain.
I dive into your eyes
and drown with a smile,
addicted to the sweet suffering
and the precious pain.
You burn me with every touch
and i melt with you.
I'm the perfect prisoner,
who's comforted with shackles,
who'd beg to lay in this dungeon,
because freedom isn't what I want.
The frustration and fury of being with you
will always be my choice,
over the woe of being without you.