Poems

Pocketknife

When I was little I cut my thumb  
With my grandpa’s pocketknife
My skin healed but left a mark
in shape of a ‘V’
Which reminds me that sometimes
Pain is felt more
when you least expect it.
Pain is felt more
when it starts from the heart
Pain is felt more
when it grabs you
by your core
and never lets go
Pain is felt more
when you can’t bandage it
And watch it heal.
Poems

Poetry is dead

I stabbed its throat with a metafork 
I laughed out loud until it bled out.
I hacked it into little connotations
I made it disappear into an allusion,
I watched as people looked for it
I couldn’t help but simile
As everyone made
an assonance of themselves.
Poems

You.

I was never yours because I felt 
Nothing when we touched I lied
To myself and kissed your body
Hoping I could find the love that left
So long ago I caressed your skin
You thought was a sweet embrace
But in reality I was trying to feel
Human again that feeling never
Came no matter how much I tried
The numbness spread through
My body like a virus triggering
My veins to move blood from
One organ to the next without
Real purpose but to live without
You.
Copyright © 2022  Mireya Pizano  All rights reserved
Poems

Day

The moon is a ghost, 
It haunts me every day.
It hovers above me—faintly
and never lets me rest.

The sun is an accomplice,
Forcing me to shut my eyes.
It blindfolds me—warmly
and pretends to be my light.
Copyright © 2022  Mireya Pizano  All rights reserved