Sack Of Rotting Flowers Poem by Fernanda Ontiveros

Acting like you don't care is the only thing making you cry, acting like you don't care is a sin for your soul, but you want to look strong you want to hide your crystal face.

Like a disposal bag you travel through their eyes and like a disposal bag you end up all alone.

You're a big, somber blob waste of bones looking for an answer in somebody else's arms, you're small and scared and sometimes you're a heart shaped clock.

Bend down your face, pretend and keep going, smile, laugh, cry at night.
Everything goes like a blur sad movie and a head explodes.

You see them walk by all in red, all in blue and all in colors.

Take somebody's hand, take somebody's tongue and take somebody's sex, it doesn't matter when you have an ashtray for a heart.
All you expect is the magic words coming from his skin but all you get is a mystifying look.

Acting like you don't care is turning you into a shoe hanging in a street, a forgotten wallet in a bus, a lost dog looking for its pat way home.

You look them both glowing in the dark, glistening like two worlds about to collide and you look your hands, they're shaking, feel your lips they're tearing, spit your silence and start running.
Everything moves like a rat trapped in a quicksand, you never stop thinking and flash backs backfire and you never understood what it meant to be a sack of rotting flowers.