Love Gap

Sitting in the window seat 
Clouds and sunshine mixing 

Creating light, joy, weightlessness 
Turning to see him kissing her

Wanting someone of his own 

Coveting the feeling of belonging 
Closing his eyes and imagining 

Her silken curls, bright eyes 

Velvety lips whispering of home 
Fingers entwined and hearts bound 

Growing together in good and bad 

Creating a glowing connection 
Sun sets and clutching the armrest 

Emptiness fills him as the dreams 

Tendrils dissipate in the screens glow 

©Esther Valencia 

So They Say

“Angels we have heard on high” so they say,
Haven’t seen any signs as my energy darkens.
Bitterness and frustration drip down
Smearing makeup and staining clothes.
Haven’t felt any strokes of grace to counter the
Pall that conceals a light that falters
Choked by fear and defeat.

If angels are out there, please heed my call.
Show me a sign,
Touch me with your grace,
Give me something
To hold on to.

©Esther Moreira

Ladies Night

I stand alone as people run one way and slither another.
All dolled up, brimming with confidence.
Tottering in 6″ stilettos sharp enough to slice away
at my confidence and sense of worth.
Some are stunning and others have acquired just
enough shine to glitter in a room full of gems.
The evening has just begun and the girl in the cherry red heels is hobbling.
Her cousin with the blond Afro is leaning on the wall
taking weight off her nude platform thigh high boots.
The bouncer across from me smiles and waves at the
petite cognac hued beauty with weave down to her cute bubble butt.

So many women and I feel alone, adrift, not enough.
I hope my “friends” arrive soon because my spirit light is dimming.
I want to feel special
and important
and beautiful
and worthy
but right now those are just words on a page.
They aren’t me or at least not the me I see.

Glad I wore flats and my loose t-shirt dress.
Even if I’m not the belle of this ball I’m comfortable.
That’s a lie.
I’m far from comfortable.

©Esther Moreira

The Aftermath 

Bewildered, hurt and afraid.

Mind filled with nightmares of tomorrow.

Not sure who to trust or believe.

Trying to keep hope alive inside.

But that light flickers in the vortex.

Cupping my hands around it to keep it alive.

Have to believe “we gon’ be alright.”



©Esther Moreira


Orange Eclipse

The man in the business suit and red tie,

Showed up one day and said things,

Spoke with no filter or propriety.

The man in the business suit and red tie,

Surfaced with a message for the people who,

Shipped intolerance with hostility.

The man in the business suit and red tie,

Shined a light on the hidden radicalization of,

Sullen people unwilling to embrace the “others”.

Trump took this maelstrom of negativity and won this hand. 

©Esther Moreira

Street Talk

He spoke to me, said
“Hi, beautiful.”
Chose to believe him
Stopped, smiled in response
Wondered where this could go.

He spoke to me, said
“Pants don’t belong on my woman.”
Wondered if anyone believed him
Stopped smiling, tried to respond
Wondered if this ever worked for him.

I spoke to him, said
“Luckily I’m not yours. Have a nice day.”
Turned away as he spluttered something
Straightened my shoulders, smiled
Walked, swaying my jean clad hips.

 

©Esther Moreira

Broken Inside

I see the broken, dead pigeon. His wings flap ineffectually in the breeze as he dangles from his broken foot trapped in the small space on the railing. I gaze at him and wonder if that’s what I’ve become. I have to be broken inside. No one has ever chosen to love me. I have always been alone, even when surrounded by friends and family. I feel stuck, trapped by invisible forces. By fear. By my narrow mind. So many speak of heartbreak but I can only give you hearsay examples. No one has broken my heart. No one has gotten close enough to know me. No one has taken a chance to see me. I laugh and joke and show off my pretty face, but I hide my heart behind flippant responses and sometimes cruel judgements. I am so afraid to let people in, even though fragments of me disappear in solitude.
©Esther Moreira

 

Support InstaWriters August Prompts hosted by @journee_nicole and @t.alva

August 14th prompt – Weeping Willow by @christy_aldridge

Single Lady

“You’re on the shelf.”

Said her downstairs neighbor, sixty year old Mrs. Sibales.

“Don’t you want kids?”

Asked her childless coworker Joe.

“Being alone when you’re old sucks.”

Said her widowed and childless aunt Angelica.

“Don’t you get lonely?”

Asked Lauren, her roommate’s girlfriend.

“You’re not getting any younger.”

Said Mr. Garcia, her father’s business partner.

“Don’t your parents want grandbabies?”

Asked Nita, her nail lady.

She tried to play it off, but at night she wondered,

Was she too ugly?

Too proud?

Too picky?

Was she too blunt?

Too coy?

Too sensitive?

But the stars only provided cold

illumination without answers.

©Esther Moreira
Support InstaWriters August Prompts hosted by @journee_nicole and @t.alva

August 9th prompt – Tell Me Where it Hurts by @j.r.rogue