Please do not write my life in poetry
because
it ....
will not rhyme
It ....
will be a cautionary tale
something like ...
the never ending story
a story
that will continue on
and if you continue on chopping trees
to
provide me
with the paper necessary
to
place it into publication
Forests
would be...
barren
like the cupboards that were only filled that first week of the month
when
welfare checks arrived
I remembered how mom sighed with happiness
“Look alive mija, ay comida”
And thank God cause I was tired of eating white rice with that
chef boyar-spaghetti
and
up until the age where I was about thirteen
I thought
everyone lived like me
see
poverty was accustomed
an acquired taste
and
tasting my tears through the years made me fond of
saline solutions
Solutions were suggested
in
prostitution
with the suggested retail price
of
a life
in low lit corners
coroners
disguised as
johns
yet
I performed my own autopsy
when I
cut myself open in search of that
open communication I missed as a child
looked in
magic mirrors
disguised as
rear views
Viewed Snow White
trapped inside a body that traveled in frigid weather
Pumping Dorothy’s red heels
Snow : Black
Slush
that reminded me of my insides
Mangled
Melting
And while they had their fairy tale fucks
I wished for fairy tale luck
the kind that
fairies sprinkled on you and made everything better
better not remind johns of who I was
see
They slept with beauty
Pricking their spindles
so I tried to mingle
with everyday society
battle with sobriety
failure in its entirety
So please do not write my life in poetry
it will dishearten those who thought they knew me
I will be judged by written pasts
hieroglyphically
It will be a typically kind of story
1000 Words will fail to paint pictures
that will depict my good side
talents
will be brushed under rugs
named after various drugs and alcoholic beverages
so
Please do not write my life in poetry
because the author of my biographical
will cringe at how graphical
my life was...
...colorful to say the least
Poetry will remember me as salacious
how I was flirtatious with acrostics
and
Kissed metaphors and
formed toxic
relationships with haikus that I teased
knowing
it will be impossible
to
seventeen syllable me
I made love to similes
and
similarly had threesomes with
cinquains and couplets
switched up styles when
I discussed my epic
and dramatic monologue
with
Free versed lyrics
Hoping these lyrics will erase
In time
I hope
My life is not written in poetry
I pray
My ode to rhyme
will cease when I am deceased
because
I will not write my life in poetry
See
Poetry
will
write
my life 
