Outspoken Linguists

a creative space for raw, progressive writing

Poetic Justice: a Love Chronicle

Poetic Justice: a Love Chronicle

...journal entries from my super-charged relationship...

So cute
butt chin
brown hair
and how much you care
to make me happy

Fireflies glow
little beads of light in the dark
Likewise we lit up
after the initial spark
(sometimes in bed)

I've lost my mind—
time travelled—

I've left my body
an artifact of pleasure
evidence of connection

When you're worried
the crease in your brow
concerns me

When your voice speaks
genuine love and affection
I'm lost in the woods
looking for how to convey it back

When you're looking at me
and I'm avoiding your wanting eyes
I'm under a spotlight
that radiates 360° and 5ft out of my warming body—
a loved, pseudo firefly

Sean, mi té calentito con miel los dias que me duele la garganta. El único que puede ser tan optimista como los fortune cookies. Quizás porque eres privilegiado—o has tenido privilegios y suerte y eres un hombre blanco. Por eso te ves poderoso, listo, que tienes confianza. Power to you, te amo.

Sean and his possessiveness over my sex. You ask me to retreat to feelings I once experienced for the sake of love and partnership when I've developed feelings beyond limitations on sex. I have a commitment to serving myself and my desires, as sexual and hedonistic or innocent and altruistic as they may come. I'm not surprised that you don't understand me, since my experience and stories of love and loss are uniquely mine and inform a sex and love outlook that my body, mind, experiences and memories have arrived at. The outlook I have optimizes the expression of my true self, unhindered, uncensored, unashamed, and passionate—willing to claim reality on my terms. My 'true self', that mystery phrase that speaks volumes to one's self-work to unravel vulnerabilities and fears, challenge them, and manifest that person one always dreamed to be, uses growth and exploration as currency and human connection as a life force. I'm not someone who believes that I will grow to my fullest and pursue my desires 'sacrificing' my sex and orgasm for only your consumption. I simply have more to give, and you possess the portion we mutually agree that you warrant.

What lies in the dark depths of my Knowledge where Feminine Power seeps out on a slow-release setInterval?
I remember the setInterval ran once in high school when I felt confident in my body, as though it finally somewhat expressed the love, care, and pleasantness I felt within. My Feminine Power and connection to the erotic attracted and repelled others to and from me. On the dot sometime in the future, I got another dose of Knowledge, connection to my Feminine ancestry—a dance with Understanding. I learned about my bicultural identity, saw academia shed light on complex emotions that I'd had regarding my identity and place—my role among others.
The knowledge explained my feelings of otherness, physical shame, pride in my intellect, behavior, and outlook. Erotic enjoyment in Chile was enriched with creativity and harmony when again I acknowledged my Feminine life force empowering my creative energy, allowing me to speak a foreign language with utter joy and pride, positioning me for friendship, love, and mystical experiences in nature. From then on, my re-ups have been increasingly educational and memorable recurrences of the same cycle—physical and ego, self and society, love, creation, and mysticism.
I pray to have an ever-flowing fountain of Understanding, that it may keep me forever poised to garner new secrets and share them. "Discovering Old Feminine Power within me through people, places, and academia."

I planned our poem exchanges for Wednesday
so I could share with you my emotions
My heart's been filling up with empathy—
for minorities—
people of color—
I'm anxious to turn thought into action
Activate and change lives and minds—
gain traction
I wanted to start with you
so you could tune in to my new obsession for equity
See, I'm afflicted with a sensitive empath's want for equity
you don't relate to me
It seems like you don't want to—
don't try to—
Do my conversations on equity offend you?
Do you get sensitive when I bash Western European patriarchal society
because you're a white man?
Do you feel white fragility?
I've felt more fragile than you
could ever imagine
Every inch of me has been examined, criticized, sexualized, forced upon me
My religion is not my native Filipino ancestors' religion
it's European colonizers' religion
My culture's infatuation with European whiteness
is not my native Filipino ancestors' legacy—
it's European colonizers' standard of beauty
I'm in a place that allows me to be here because I'm tolerable
I'm liked because women are liked for humor, intelligence, niceness
not because this place believes in me—
has biases that look out for me
I'm more tolerable than, say
a Black woman because my race
has positive stereotypes that theirs lacks
smarts, obedience

I'm fucking tired of the comparisons

That's what I want to tell you, Baby
I want to pour this out of me—
onto paper—
out to you
into your ears
so I can be rid of a lifelong set of comparators
that evolve as I grow—
that go away only if I can reason them away logically—
not because they aren't there verbally—
on other people's minds
on TV
in classrooms
in schools
in clubs
in 'safe places'—
in 'woke', safe places

Maybe I'm spared this omnipotent magnifying glass in our relationship because you love me for me and my likeability isn't in question
This is a bittersweet experience
Our encounters are as flooded with my subconscious, learned, Eurocentric, patriarchal flags of inequity as they are lacking in endless superficial comparators that deem you superior to me in every way—
and that hurts
It's a unique sting from when my best friend and ex-lover betrayed my trust
It's just as full-bodied
It's elicited about the same amount of tears
It's a unique sting from when another ex confessed what amounted to my role in emasculating him with my bad temper and feminine ambition
The path they've walked with me was very different from ours but the pain is present, and the threat of our loves termination is ever-present

My heart wants to relate to my Baby
How do I do that?
How do I
explain without offending
question without assuming
learn about you enthusiastically—
when I've only ever learned about white men—
tell you about me—
when all you hear are complaints and bashing
of your culture and things you've learned to like?

only relevant ones mentioned, I have more goals than this lol
GIRLFRIEND: Be level-headed/thankful/grateful, take him out, suggest dates, patience/understanding, go on trips, Poetry Wednesdays, keep it fun/spontaneous, change it up
SER (BEING): read more Feminist books, love people more fully, never lose or lower my confidence after an event or because of someone else to make them comfortable. Focus on building deep resilience (know I'll get back up after being knocked down), don't obsess over my image, make choices that are healthy, aim for self-love/understanding/authenticity

from No Limits with Rebecca Jarvis
"There's a moment when you realize other people don't necessarily know the right answer. When you realize your insecurities are no greater than others'—and that you may know as much, if not more, than the person you're working with, for, or among.
You change, and I don't know when that moment happens—it's like falling in love with yourself or your ideas... Why don't I just say what I think and just move myself forward with my brain?"

To let myself go, wherever feels right, no discussion, argument, explanation, rationale.
These days freedom in anything is hard to come by. A decision to stay or leave has so many logical verticals stemming from it, dreaming to be pondered, dreaming to plague a free spirit and set her back.
These avenues of thought,
so easily accessible... also unwanted detours from my line of sight
All is corrupted and expected to make sense
Beauty in right feelings dilutes
After a thought experiment—
I am dead—
Loss of the will to stay or go passes
An alarm goes off
And on the dot, I begrudge a decision
Line of sight lost the moment a supporting argument was opined


I'm deeper in love with my man, myself, and my habits. A paradigm shift occurred—I am creating positive intentions, giving them life by the genuine nature of the intention, and allowing them to translate into action, stoked by the energy of my supporters and serendipitous symbolism. I feel a change in my relationship with Sean because I am connected to him via a healthy channel of mutual attraction, support, erotic love, pride. I myself also feel charged with a different energy, like I'm fierce, honest, likeable, smart, beautiful, and unique. I feel loved for my qualities. I am working on qualities I wish not to preserve—self-doubt mainly.
I am truly a bright star, and I love to touch other people's light and to touch them with mine.

The good night I didn't say to you
because navigating away from sweet habitual greetings was new
I was confused
Fighting told me we were broken
'Maybe we can go for a walk or sit in a park'
The perfect settings for breaking relationships

Ya que siento sola y bien,
significa que estoy lista?
pa estar sola?
y confidente
y feliz
y poderosa
sola y contenta

Siempre he querido algo perfecto
un lugar—no, un paraíso
un cuerpo—de las pelis
un hompre—mejor que yo
soy imperfecta
por qúe busco perfección?
en que mundo existe
mi versión de belleza, maravillo, felicidad...

pa entenderme
pa auto-reflexionar
pa explorar el mundo internal
Aspiro explorar el mundo external—
pa conocerme más
pa conocerlo más ese único mundo
llena de mundos internales

I thought I was being a good partner but I can be more giving and selfless.

I've missed telling you the part where you're
to me
inside me
with me
talking to me
cuddling me
warming and holding me
your embraces
why do I not crave them
like I crave chocolate?
a chocolate baby
so sweet
for me to eat

I was lonely when you didn't fight me
when you thought I'd be better off untriggered
I love you
so much
Lonely isn't all of my pain
I'm blind
I can't breathe
I just want you

My blank stare sees you
your bearded contours
soft smile

I feel past's coldness towards you
question their origins
my motivations for separation
parts of you I didn't love
wouldn't engage with
flirt with
try to understand

In baby's arms clasping his hands
caressing his cheek

I wanna give him exactly what he wants and needs. I wanna be unafraid and show him who I am. No censoring because I feel impending judgement, no copping out with emotionally charged reactions. I want to speak to Sean and genuinely try to understand him, why he's saying something, why he's saying something in a certain way, tune in to his motivations. I wanna do for him this solid of willful connection. He's done it a lot for me, and I've been dodging him when it gets slightly scrutinizing. I can't be hypocritical like that because I scrutinize him all the time and expect him to take and respect my criticism—two-way street.
Even if he doesn't want me anymore, this is a lesson that I've judged him very harshly and been very self-righteous.
I'm sorry baby. I've been thinking about you non-stop.
How do I make Sean feel appreciated and secure?

MLK, the day Sean says he's sure he doesn't want to get back together; he knows he wants to be by himself.
I cried a little, but I'm okay.
I wanted to try harder and again, but the time's not right and he's not ready. Not ready to be with someone like me. Maybe he will never be. I'm ready to give more (in theory), push myself to change and develop in the way that's best for a partnership, but I can't force someone to want me who's going through shit of their own, struggling in their own way and trying to take care of oneself. Clearly, he wasn't doing enough self-care previously. He's learning that, what it means.

Siempre has sido poderosa
por qué lo olvidaste?
Siempre has sabido que es difícil estar contigo
por qué pensaste q esto sería diferente?
Siempre has sido más madura emocionalmente—
aunque sí, más pesada—
por qué te ofendes tanto que él no pudo manejar la relación?

Estoy en cama escribiendome:
a la Andrea del pasado: mírate y piensa en la belleza adentro de ti
que fluye y te llena

a la Andrea del futuro: Te das cuenta de lo profundo escondido en tus imperfecciones?
Te encuentras desarollando a diario
Floreces a diario
que se demora años pa cambiar

I’m pulling out the weeds with you—
their origin story revealing
this process is long overdue
I’ve wanted to weed our garden
but I was too afraid to reach out—
to pull
when we needed it most
You also forgot to tend to our garden—
to cultivate our green patch of Earth
You kept planting—
but never weeded
Slow talks with you
in low voices
over Vietnamese bowls
The variety of sauces
reflecting the many flavors of our incompatibilities
I stare at my blurry reflection
in spicy peanut sauce—
thick like the lump in my throat—
that formed when you said
any relationship I have
with a prior romantic partner
would hurt you
I add mild sauce and spicy sauce to my tofu
I love those guys
I also loved you
The progress we made—
seems meaningless again
I’m remembering my pain
on a neon sign catches my eye through the window—
I try to explain
I value friendships dearly—
I’m still faithful to you—
it would never happen—
it doesn’t dilute my love for you—
reasons, reasons
My heart wants all of you—
Is my heart unwilling to make sacrifices for you?
Not this—
I lost so many friends
to past hook up complications
These ones still care about me—
and I them
Our friendship stood the test of—
natural separation
differing priorities & preferences
I don’t want to explain further
I need them like I need the spicy peanut sauce—
we know each other—
I see myself in them
I need you like I need Sriracha
I crave you—
I need that extra something in my palette—
the extra kick—
extra love—
extra stimulation
These extra flavors aren’t a threat—
not to me at least
No matter how many sauces I encounter
I always look for something hot—
but that’s not enough for you
you think I’m out here
quaffing milk
to limit your reach—
that couldn’t be farther from the truth
I’m out there squirting out too much Sriracha
splashing in too much cayenne pepper
adding too many homegrown jalapeños
taking all the habaneros provided at the Mexican restaurant—
regretting it

I’m capable of so much more
On my bad days– the ones where I spend hours crying over the void in my heart you left behind—
I’m comforted by strangers’ acts of kindness
A 7Up from the man on BART
He knew I was hurting
I give my extra protein bars to a beggar in good shape

I read through our texts–the ones there since the last time I deleted them anyway
I looked at my photos’ compilation of pics of you, weeping
The saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my life
It registered that I like your smile—it always looks the same—irony
I only miss it now
See how genuine & loving & searching for approval & recognition it’s always been
Me, never giving it the time of day

Even on my worst days, I manage to enjoy myself, meet new people, smile
I sat under Cupid’s arrow—
then laid there bawling, thinking, wishing, questioning

My heart never wanted to be broken. Told you not to break it—to be communicative—but the warning didn’t suffice. You wanted to beat me to it—save yourself—protect yourself from the pain you thought I’d inflict on you—selfish bastard. Fucking asshole. Piece of shit going on about how you can’t handle me, have no patience/time/energy for me, are wounded by my temper, mood.
Fragile ego. Fragile.
Thrice broken heart, doing to me what your exes did to you.
Fuck you. Eight months and you couldn’t manage honesty.
Your idea of love is fucked up.
Good luck.
Somebody somewhere deserves my love, and it’s not you. I’m glad I didn’t call. Seeing your smiling face in photos reminds me of your incompetence.
Bye bitch.

I realized—
crying, tears and wails leaving my body—
the day I choose to connect to a new soul—
that ours—
my special connection with you—
was treated with care
motivated by fear
and tragically masked
with deep desire
I loved you
to the point of dishonesty
I hid the faces you would not see
or look at—
ones I felt ashamed of
I thought the one I showed you
was the one you liked
My poorly hidden qualities
screamed at me—
screamed at you—
bypassing my acceptable face—
side eyeing it with scorn—
knowing full well of its forged authenticity
I realized—
crying, listening to my favorite Odesza song—
looking up at the Gemini moon—
I wanted to love you
so badly
as did you
Original intentions were pure and clear—
not entirely conveyed
Emotional support where we needed it
was forgone
I cry for the signs that told me
it wasn’t right
the times we chose to stick it out—
hide harder—
love harder—
the times that our faces that needed
to look and see each other
never did

image modifications thanks to Melodie Perrault

Healing: Poetry Written through my Transformation

Healing: Poetry Written through my Transformation

full moon with my sisters

full moon with my sisters