Callous, Cold Woman.

We separate by force. Distance keeps us at arms bay.
But I know I’ll crave your embrace in these coming days.
I wonder if your peace still lies with me.
Can you even sleep?

Or is your heart at rest knowing the best part is over?
And all that remains is effort given in vain.

Most people give up too quickly.
Doubt consumes courage.
Love grows sour.
And interest steadily declines.

I continue to hope for you.
Pray you’re at your best.
Even if at the end of things,
I don’t express much clearly.

I refused to be consistent because
I never wanted you to depend on me.

I mirrored your habits.
Became someone less…

But I digress.

I just want your heart
to be at rest.



Reality. (300 words)

Pull me back to reality. Because as of right now—I have given my whole attention to this alternate universe that only leaves me feeling incomplete. I stand up in my unhappiness, and look around. Seeing the anger and frustration I chose to bury.

Wondering if I will ever find my way back out.

Now, the ground quakes with rage and I know it is only a matter of time before I crumble beneath this pressure of my own doing. Eventually, we all must answer for the raw nerves we neglected to cover. But I am never given the opportunity.

When I am not actively healing, I like to believe I am living in a place where nothing goes wrong. I sleep through the night and spend productive days hoping to “do better” when the chance comes my way. I pick up my cross and carry on.

But I am just as broken as I was last year when I had to accept that I was on my own.

Some nights I dream of the innocent souls I sacrificed for illicit conversation. I think of the crimes I committed when I was unrecognizable to even me. Most people do not try to see the full picture. I am guilty of focusing on the side that favored my parts in the story.

It means nothing to say you will be there, or to pledge allegiance when you do not have to prove yourself. It is easy to believe you are the martyr, when you refuse to acknowledge another person’s scars.

I am guilty of caring too much about other people. And I am guilty of not doing more for my self. But I will set this Earth on fire, before I burn my light out for anyone else.

Broken Grace.

art, broken, poetry, lifeI wonder where you were when I broke down in ways that shattered my future expectations. I reached out, hoping that you could be objective but found your unresponsiveness to be the final nail in my proverbial coffin.

I know I am dramatic–I used to wish
that my feelings did not run so deep
or go so hard. But most people never
recover from the magnitude of this
particular type of loss.

Especially not me.

Forgive me for not being on my best behavior. For taking my war against my obsession too far. Maybe, you are just not familiar with these particular types of scars. I wanted you to understand the
consequences of your decision.
Instead you chose to ignore me
at my worst, throwing
silence in my face when
I really needed you.

You never had the ability
to face the impossible truth.
And now you wonder why
you are broken, too.


I am:
eternally grateful
for the rare opportunity
to remain present in the last
place I failed.
instead of overreaction I
can see clearly and accept
how I feel.

Though feelings are not facts,
I must acknowledge the ticking
time bomb that is my heart.
When disappointment knocks,
it can lead to a burden of pain
that I do not wish to carry anymore.
I will not accept or claim defeat
before true happiness
has a chance to redeem.
I will not walk anxiously with
questions or doubts.

Some say:
I am stubborn.
A fixed star.
many explorers will
endeavor to touch.
While others
will surrender

Little do they know
there is a raging fire
burning deep within
my soul.
Paving its way through
fear and sorting out
all my insecurities.

Regardless of who stays
or leaves–
I will always be able
to count on me.




I woke up in a panicked sweat
searching desperately for something
I knew was not in my bedroom.
Shadows creep–as the darkness plays
against my subconscious’ attempts
at understanding.

I am not mourning or acknowledging
any further distress. I accepted
the keys to my own happiness.
Driving away from this detour
on my way back towards
a more beneficial path.

Doubters laugh–
mocking my progress.
Waiting for the day I fall
Hoping I ask them for help
just so they can applaud their own
pointless existence.

But they were never any
friends of mine.

I am the definition of
tough love and perseverance.
The one who never gives up–unless
I am forced to retreat.

But this isn’t really about me.

It’s about being shaken to the core
by a dream and reaching out
in vain–knowing no one will ever
fully see what you are going through.

It’s about putting on a
brave face and welcoming
the certainty of the unknown.
Being a responsible adult–
even when you find it hard to believe.

Admitting you messed up
and making amends
so long as it does not distract
from your peace.

And if I can just get to this final place
of forgiveness and self-love…

art, drawing, girl, dreams, sara herranz

I know these nightmares will eventually stop.


No Love Allowed.

love, art, anxiety, dating

Someone tried to kiss me yesterday, but I wasn’t ready.
That’s when my sympathetic system kicked in
and my body tensed up.
I knew this was coming.
Felt his eyes glaze over
before he even looked my way.
But I wasn’t ready.

I’m. still. not.

How much longer will it take me
to dive back in when I still have not
fallen completely out–of love?

Dura Mater.

You are responsible for the way you survive
after being broken and battered and still doing life.

You own the materials necessary, to thrive.

We find it hard to trust people who haven’t really lived
or died at least twice. Pain does not discriminate, it is
an inevitable effect of the eternal design.

What sets you apart is how you get up after facing
earth shattering realities. Like the death of a person
who may still be alive. Stitching up a bleeding heart
when it is stomped on or cast aside.

It is being tough, but malleable when someone
questions your intentions. Staying in the ring
even if the fight grows uncomfortable.

Never giving up on someone who loves you.

Instead, we jump–the moment our stability drifts
in the water. Not realizing, the captain always goes
down with his ship. He owns all his mistakes.
Paying the ultimate price–his life.

Maybe you’ve already died. Grieved an “unholy”
vessel that was going nowhere fast. Perhaps
the time for reminiscing has already passed.
Your obsession with forgetting rewarded with
a sickly clean slate and a deceptively new start.

Your mind is clear and all the collateral you
previously invested is now focused on what
is in front of you. And yet, the past will not
let you go.

Remember: You are still responsible. 

For: what you leave behind and the damage you caused
that continues to haunt your waking thoughts. Even if
you know how to redirect your attention.

Some endings leave us wounded,
and are never fully resolved.

–Oh, but you can certainly try.