A collection of poems by Kayla Milanes
"Subway”
All I see is sunflowers and white roses and Lily’s
and railroad tracks
and there are white haired women singing “there will be days like this”
where the concrete don’t shine and the sidewalk cracks
singing “Young folk don’t know nothing bout love”
Like “There’s got to be days like this first”
There got to be days like this so you know you’re alive, child
so that young fool don't make you think he’s the reason
White haired women, they said there’d be days like this when all you got is the ride home
until the sun don’t shine on the things you once needed it to
“Save it for yourself”
Your mother’s hips did not stretch and her back break in half
for you to give your body to a boy who does not worship it
“Stop looking”
Behind the sugar coating and the salt covered rims there is uneasiness
There is cracked paint
There is no beauty here
Stop looking
“honor yourself first”
There will be times that your mind is a war zone that you cannot conquer
and your body is a dead soldier on the battlefield
You will lose your pride and your honor and there will be no one watching
There will be no flag spread for you
No memorial in your honor
You must clap for yourself
“Self explanatory”
Teaching a man how to love you is like teaching your body how to breathe
You shouldn't have to
“Your mother should've told you this"
You do not deserve any less than a heart that will break outside of its bones for you
“Mom”
My mother
with her cocoa covered skin and charcoal coated hair
is the first home I have ever planted my wet soil covered toes in
“No one can help you”
You are sad
You are a boneless body begging for someone to hold you up straight
You can’t even hold yourself up without collapsing into your own weathered skin
You can’t rise
You never could
“What it means to me”
To be loved is to be looked at like you are light
Like you are brighter than any shadow this cold world has tried to cast you in
“That is the only way you will feel whole”
Find someone who loves the parts of you
you didn't know how to on your own
“It’s not over yet”
You are a crooked painting
Or maybe a crooked smile
Or a half healed scar
You are only trying the best you can
Keep trying
“What it should've been”
Love is not boastful
It is not loud or obscene
It is small
It is a hand or a ring finger
Anything you can hold onto
Anything you can fit into your pocket for the days you are not sure
On the days where your head beats louder than your heart
When your heart seems too small to feel its own beat this love will be a reminder
A soft whisper for when even your hands are too broken to feel it
About Kayla Milanes: "I'm a 20 year old girl from a small town who writes for the people who need to hear it. Who will feel something, read my poems and understand."
