A poem for girls once loved

A poem for girls once loved

For the widows

staring out of bedroom windows

hoping the last ray of sunlight will warm the side of the bed that is now empty.

Scared that a smile from a stranger’s visage will strike up a memory long forgotten,

afraid to shed any more tears in the rain as the earth soaks it up

as if meant to wipe the dust off her lovers coffin, six feet under

she wonders,

thoughts on her two bundles of joy

a son with a striking resemblance to his father

and a daughter with no figure to show her what to look for in a man.

My mother.


For those with hearts broken

by bad boys in leather jackets, with blue jeans and killer smiles.

Bearing scars from the mishap with Cupid’s arrow

and wounds from the guilt of knowing her baby will never know her father.

Struggling with a past that haunts her, a present that taunts her

and a future that is but a mirage on a path she has traveled far too long.

The smile on her baby’s face is the plaster that holds her world together

the break of dawn that signals a new day, a new way

this life she now holds in her arms.

My first love.


For the girls who’ve lost hope in fairy tale endings

believing that love can only be found in movies and defining it by what they see in soap operas.

Donned in black, everyday is a funeral for chivalry

waiting to pull the plug on romance, widowed by Prince Charming

gone is Mr. Right, can’t see the light

for at the end of the tunnels stands a wall, to stall

any form of progress

in this battle between dependence and independence

victims of a war between past culture and present convictions.

My sister.




Love is patient and kind,

love is not jealous or boastful, it is not arrogant or rude

love does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful

it does not rejoice at wrong but rejoices in the right.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things

Love never ends…


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