by my self
a poem by Destiny Padilla
I don't have people,
they are not mine.
They come but never stay
even if they say
they will never leave,
they do.
I don't have my own lover.
they come,
go
and always come back again.
When will the come and goers
stop coming?
alone all of the time.
most of the time
alone with thoughts
more dangerous than people.
A woman.
not prim nor proper
loud and sometimes sassy
direct and independent.
a product of a single mother.
hard, cold and bitter
lied to and cheated on.
a church people visit
with their fingers crossed.
be quiet, more.
ladies don't talk so loud.
that's not how to attract a man,
they like the quiet ones.
I tried,
alone again
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