kissing freckles

December 19, 2012

“that’s my favorite freckle,” she says,
as she turns to another of the many freckles
she’s said that to already,
leans in, and kisses it gently.. tenderly.

she’s just as hopeless a romantic as me
-“cheesy” –some choose to call it. the kind
that leaves Love notes in my wallet
or hidden in my night stand drawer.
fills my inbox with Love songs
or stories about her day.

i nap on her bed
she wakes me up with flowers.

her eyes. her smile.
remind me, that every step towards Her
was worth it. that nothing was ever a mistake.
that i am perfect. whole. and complete.

she Loves the way i Love.
accepts my perfect imperfections
and expects me to be nothing less
and nothing more than who i am.

she reminds me. i am enough.
for me. for her. for us.

she believes in me. sees the woman
i am and Loves her.
she sees the woman
i will become and Loves her even more.

she celebrates Me.

she is fully aware of my insecurites,
the stuff i’m working on and working out.
full disclosure from the moment we met…
she has yet to flinch.

solid and grounded. she anchors me.

and i can’t wait ’til the summer,
when the sun multiplies my freckles.

¿que ganabas?

January 6, 2012

¿cual fue tu intención
al besarme,
si no intentabas intentar
algo mas que una aventura?


¿porque te acercaste
tan tiernamente
besando el temor
de mis labios?

¿que ganabas?

cuantos besos
mal gastados
en un fin de semana

y yo
de idiota
poesía en tu piel.

¿porque será quel poeta
siempre encuentra musa
agridulce en un mismo ser?

la próxima
que me bese
tendra que hacer maromas
imposibles para ganarse
tan solo un roce
de la piel que arropa
mis labios.
tendrá ella que ser maga
para hacer desaparecer

los besos no se dan por dar.
se dan con intencion
de dar mas que un
cuerpo mortal.

no prostituyan besos.
no hagan del cariño una ramera
que se ofrece para satisfacer
la carne, mientras deja el alma hambrienta.

el beso se da con intención honesta

…o no se da.

esta navidad

December 14, 2011

que alegria
si debajo de tus ramas
encontrara yo, el regalo del Amor.

si entre lucecitas y guindalejos’
colgaran sus besos.
o tal vez Ella seria aquel angel
que con brazos abiertos me
espera en el tope.

que no lleve mucha envoltura.
soltare el nudo de su enlaze.
abrire la caja y descubrire
cada detalle de su espiritu.

quiero que tus campanitas
suenen un bolero.
que le canten un aguinaldo
a la magia de la epoca.

y que una estrella fugaz
encuentre hogar en mi pecho.


December 1, 2011

in the time and space
that exist in the geography
of distance

a sometimes
uncanny moment
that shows the illusion
to be real

there are days
i feel you so close
i swear you never left


here you are
sitting in the void
i think is empty.

one is only as far away
as the heart that misses them.

so really, you’re not gone

if every beat
pounds your name
on my chest
escapes from my lips
with every word i speak
you are heavy on my tongue.

a gypsy, you come and go
traveling through my veins
with an expired passport.

my circulatory system
carries your dna

i begin to bleed you out…

so that i may let Her in.

one question

November 29, 2011


don’t take life so seriously.

life is fragile. short. time is not on our side. love is.

and in the end… that is the only thing we take with us.

so give it. freely. honestly. wholeheartedly. without reservation.

and receive it. without hesitation.

don’t worry about the damn bills. the next gadget. or making that paper.

none of it is worth a damn thing.

spend time with your family. laugh more with friends. treasure the treasures.

don’t hate. don’t hold anger. don’t be so quick to judge.

do your part to be a part of those who have left a legacy of a more just world.

stand up for the things that matter. stand down for the matters that don’t.

paint. write. sing. dance.

create spaces filled with tenderness.

ask yourself just one question:

if i knew i was going to die tomorrow, what would be most important right now?

the answer you give, is how you should live your life every day.

la envidia de picasso

November 15, 2011

tre’cientos noveinta cinco
dias llevaba yo
de blanco y negro.

mis emociones
pintadas de gris.
tratando de ponerle
color al lienzo
de mi corazon
con pintura de agua.

ignorando el aceite puro
de tu amor, tus besos,
tu cariño, tu ternura.
aquella manera
de conocer cual pincel usar
para pintarme una sonrisa.

no me importa ya el pasado.
solo quiero pintar de valor
este Amor tan nuestro.

aquellos tres azules del mar
que tanto te conmueven…
los enmarcare en el ambar de mis ojos.

sera este amor la envidia de picasso.

solo se

November 13, 2011

no hay poema
que pueda expresar
lo que sentí
al verte.

solo se…
que mañana
voy de viaje
en tu corazón.
y tu equipaje se van sin ti,
porque te quedas en mi.

catching fears

October 5, 2011

is the sound of fear.

how does one let go
of those experiences
that build walls
to keep us safe?

the hurt
lasts longer
when we allow it to
keep us from embracing
a new blessing.

i am learning to listen
to silence. i am also learning
keep quiet. to let myself be
guided by more than words.

gently and quietly,
She slips her unspoken Love
into my pillow case.

…and every night
a dream catches
fears and i hear
the walls cracking.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011


September 15, 2011


if you go to stuckonstupiddotcom
you’ll find a picture of me.
and if you look closely into my eyes
you’ll see her silhouette
shufflin’ in my pupils.

she drives me crazy.

that kinda’ crazy that has me wondering
if i might be having some stalker-like behaviors.

she got me
counting hours ‘til i see her again.
i check and recheck my phone
to see if i might’ve missed her text
between now…
and the time i put it back in my pocket.

when she touches me,
i can feel it in the toes
of my next life.

when she speaks to me,
i get hooked
on the phonics of her lips.
i’ve been diagnosed
with attention deficit disorder
but she’s got
my complete attention.

she’s got this smile…

and when she laughs,
her entire face lights up.
and i’m looking at her light
walking towards it without fear
’cause if it’s death
…bring it.

she makes me laugh.
that ‘hood laugh.
(you know that laugh)

the one that got you standing-up-
running-slowly-clapping your hands-
kinda’ laugh.


she drives me crazy.

the kinda’ crazy that got me wondering
if i should be in a straight-jacket
‘cause i wanna’ run into the walls
of her body and just crash into her.

she. is. so. good.
she’s got me thinking i’m free falling
and when i look around
i realize, i’ve been lying on her floor
for a minute.

…that’s some trickery.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011 ©


September 14, 2011

she’s not a carpenter
but she’s building me up.

never used brushes,
but she paints my heart
a green shade of hope…
slowly and perfectly.

serves dinner onto plates
filled with laughter.
plays connect the dots
with my freckles,
drawing out her touch…

i get feverish.
my skin burns
out fears.

her silence
tells me to rest
as we breath
in and out
and Up.

moves me
to stillness…

She has a way
to find ways.

~Sarahí Yajaira. 2011