1. POEM I
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be
taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
SONNET 116
2. Everyday I Want
To GiveYou More
You live inside
my mind,
and every time
I close my eyes
I see you precious
face,
staring back at me;
lacing me in eternity
with you.
You pace inside
my heart,
keeping alive,
helping me survive.
You're simply what
makes my heart
beat,
the very thing that
makes me go weak.
Its 3 in the morning,
and I can only think
of you.
Memories churn,
turning our souls
forever whole;
and just being in
your arms it seems
theres noting in this
world that I couldn't
do.
You trickle inside
my every thought,
seeping into what
makes me,
me.
Sometimes I can't
even go a moment
without thinking a
single thought thats
completely mine.
You crawl inside
my soul,
you sit beneath
the pain,
the tears,
that try to grab
ahold of me.
Its 3 in the morning
and I can only think
of you.Sitting in your
arms,
just hours before,
I can still feel your
warmth,
feel your arms around
me. Holding me deep
into the night.
everyday I'll love you
more,
give you all I have,
sacrifice my life to
keep things right.
Everyday I'll tell you
how much you mean
to me,
wipe away your tears,
kiss you cheek,
and tuck you into bed;
letting you know you're
the best thing in my life,
and I wouldn't mind one
day becoming your wife....
but most of all
everyday,
I just want to give
you more.
POEM II
3. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
POEM III
How Do I Love
Thee?
4. My cousins and I,
we don't marry.
We're too old
by Mexican
standards.
And the relatives
have long
suspected
we can't anymore
in white.
My cousins and I,
we're all old
maids at thirty.
Who won't dress
children,
and never saints--
though we undress
them.
POEM IV
Old Maids
The aunts,
they've given up on
us.
No longer nudge--
You're next.
Instead--
What happened in
your childhood?
What left you all
mean teens?
Who hurt you,
honey?
But we've studied
marriages too long--
Aunt Ariadne,
Tia Vashti,
Comadre Penelope,
querida Malintzin,
Senora Pumpkin
Shell--
lessons that served
us well.
