Marcela Bolivar

My authenticity,

Though not imbued by you,

Is recognized by no other

At least not without some

MeasureĀ of aversion

I might be prettier

If I had more

Than one expression ,

But a single admission

Could break me entirely


There are wolves

Bargaining for flesh

In the rooms of every

Unattended child

Better that you know

The consequence

Of silence


I am not worth

My weight in wool

I do not suffer more or less

But if I told you

Half of what I know

I am sure you’d look

The other way


Some days it’s just not okay

To remember

But it’s what I’ve forgotten

That dissipates the peace within

Did I create nightmares

Of the prosaic?

Am I just a cemetery flower?

Or did I stand too close

To the Devil

And witness something

I shouldn’t have?


Does anyone wish

They could forgive me

But find in my eyes

An inconsolable vacancy?

I wear gloves

Whenever we hold hands

So that our identities

Won’t collide

Am I alone again

Or just screening?


Encase you wonder about the poem it goes back and forth from childhood to adulthood relationship issues that result from being abused.