Open Letter // “The Butterflies”


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Dear anybody who might come across this,

It’s currently January 2nd, 2015. I still haven’t managed to find time to remind myself to correct the time zone for my posts. Therefore, that’s why this will show as January 3rd, I believe.

Anywho, the purpose for this post is to inform everyone that faithfully reads what I post or may just come across this miraculously– that this is going to be the last of my course with WordPress. I’ve ran all of this for awhile now, and I have outgrown it.

I have outgrown a lot of things this past year. I don’t feel bad for it either. I’ve become okay with everything. I’ve reached a peace that I was lacking so badly this past year. I had the worst anxiety, I was always stressing, but my heart feels brand new because I learned to pray a lot more and remain faithful a lot more. I thank God for how far I’ve come in life because a lot of bad things came rolling my way very early on in life for me. From 17 to (now) 20, turning 21 this year– everything feels like its starting to situate itself where everything needs to be. I did a lot of growing. Growing now has become something that I’ve learned to look forward to in life.

As I close this chapter of having a writing blog, I still want to make sure everyone that has followed me and read some of my work or all of it, knows that I have always appreciated the support so so much. The followers, the likes, the read hits, everything on here has given me the confidence that I needed to pursue goals and be driven in the topic of writing. I probably wouldn’t want to write a book if it wasn’t for you guys.

Here’s to gaining a little more mystery in my life, as I go about this year deleting social medias one by one. I will find a way to get my writing out. I will find something new to pursue. I will write a book and be published by 22. I will venture out in many more things and find more passions and share the love. Love that obviously bled through into my writing. Nobody ever figured it out. Who I write about. I am very much in love at 20 but in a very different way. Much more of an adoration that has caused me to learn a lot of new things and how to love selflessly. A huge reason for the way I am now, and how much I’ve grown.

I wish many good things to you guys this New Years.

Thank you again. Here is my last little prose for you guys. God bless.


The Butterflies

I thought many times that we could only feel enough to feel and once we felt enough we’d never feel it again.
The butterflies are just one of the feelings I speak of.
I don’t feel them anymore and to think enough of it, makes me very sad.
Kind of makes me start to picture the spark of the chemical reaction that doesn’t take place in my mind.
You feel the absence more than the presence.
The butterflies, I speak of.
I have dreams of them running away from me, and I wake up with my legs hurting
and a knot in my throat.
In the day time, I rub my eyes often to whisk away the empty feeling that nothing seems to fulfill.
I feel everything in a physical sense but my mind has kept away the feelings locked away.
I used my tries up, now I only see what I’m missing when I let my mind rest at night.
I feel the sensation on my spine coming up like when the boy I love traces his fingers up and down it
while I rest.
I feel it but everything would disappear to nothing if I heard sweet words.
I’d probably turn my head over and wish for urgent sleep or to disappear hurriedly in a dream.
A dream where the butterflies get away from me.
But I feel the absence, I know the possibility is in me.
The chemicals are waiting to collide, I feel it when I close my eyes.
The moonlight and darkness falling to further darkness agrees.
They’re there, soon enough it’ll be full enough to bleed out of me in panic of where
to go.
My stomach.
I have these dreams.
These butterflies I speak of.
They run away from me.
My nose begins to bleed the same colors of their wings, it runs down on my clothes, on my skin even and it glistens when it touches it.
I want to fall into the field of flowers where they ponder, in wonder,
in curiosity, in need to feel and connect the final dots needed to for the chemicals to collide.
My body melting in utter sensation of feeling butterflies in my stomach reaching every end of my body
like an echo traveling through the darkest caves.

sincerely, jdm.

Goodbye everyone, xo.


My heart


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Last night when I was sleeping
I think I was dreaming
And maybe you were in it
It wouldn’t surprise me if you were
Or maybe I was thinking of you while I was dreaming
But anyhow the point is that only few people know that I awake at odd times of the night and sometimes I’m moved to do things
Last night I woke up in the middle of my slumber to tell you some sentimental things when I could barely open my eyes but my heart was right there
It was right there
And you read what I sent you and put it away I guess
I haven’t heard back
My heart is still in those words, you see
It’s right there

And I still haven’t heard back


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We both changed baby
I used to want to talk to you all day
Now I don’t care to hear from you for two weeks after I’ve seen you
I let it linger in me that long or it lasts that long
Then I miss you again
It’s been me more adapting to your changing and so I’ve changed along the way
I used to want your voice in my ear all the time
Now I’m better off without
Until two weeks from now when my skin starts itching for your fingers and your tongue
And I start reaching for materials in my sleep in order to grasp something that resembles the feeling of your skin
Then I start dreaming about you,
Thinking so much about you
That my body aches
I have to crouch down and hold myself in place before I fall
But then I see you again
And it goes away until two weeks when I am parched gasping for your breath in my lungs all over again

nature’s honey.


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how lovely is the taste of true sweet things

i’ve fooled myself to imagine nectar on

your sour skin.

but i’ve loved you even when it was difficult to

and in that i’ve learned to be selfless.

with that process going, i’ve started to dislike

what i used to love.

i think i never really loved it.

the love i know now.

the things i adored were harmful, but i am equal to you

the same things you’re capable of, i am too.

now my skin resembles a desert, but my heart is that like an ocean.

when the waves move, i move.

i was once drowning, but now i float.

i learned to float at twenty, because i stopped letting things sink me.

at twenty, my goodness. twenty.

and there’s a sweet mist that’s making it’s way to me, i see it.

ready to settle on my dry skin.

to make it taste like nature’s honey.

i’ll continue to stay afloat until it’s over me, and hum a romantic

tune to the sun and clouds while i wait.

sincerely, jdm.

who knew?


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there’s a blurred static picture on the television
and there’s a lit cigarette waiting to be put out by the
chair where I usually sit.
but I’m on the floor with my legs propped up on the wall
looking at the television screen upside down
feeling the air rotate its way down to me from the ceiling fan,
and make its way through my loose shirt, exposing skin sometimes, so I close it up when it does.
over and over.
the overcast clouds move my shadow on the wall from left to right
as it decides to let the sun take a peek at my skin.
it gets warm when it does.
here and there.
so there’s silence lingering around me, and the movement of the shadow is slow.
therefore, the essence of time disappears.
…for me at least.
and I slowly go in and out of daydreaming of driving down on a full cloudy day, with a chilly wind coming through my window, flowing through strands of my hair, and my eyesight becomes very narrow, and I can literally feel my mind shrinking focus onto only one thing, usually you.
usually memories.
and the world seems to only inhabit me at that exact time, and I feel it consume the important parts of me. so even though I’m the only one, I’m alone with minor parts of me that leaves me borderline empty. more so, my eyes reflect this, because they seem to take it the hardest. at least my skin is always glowy. see, there’s life in me, but my eyes pour the contrary statement onto my glowy skin. the lively glowy skin and it’s slowly dying with them. my skin with trace marks of your past presence on it.

anyhow, there’s this pool in the middle of Earth that depicts the exact image of what my internal system –probably what my stomach would look like– that I lay floating in, and I’m staring up to the thinly showcased sky wondering which breath is going to be my last, when the blood in my veins is going to cool down, and when my lips are going to start screaming for help.

it’s like that instance in life when we first figured out that staring into the light and closing our eyes would show us the same shape in colors of blue, green, black, red…
but you can’t say anything until you open your eyes.
or at least I couldn’t.
but this time I don’t want to close my eyes. I want to float away with the core in this pool.
I want for the keys in my favorite song to play on my spine and vibrate into my brain and echo into my ears.
I want my knees to stay align with the waves in the liquid substance.
all while driving down this road,
looking into my mirrors
looking outside my windows.
but being completely aware of what lane I am in, because I’m going home.
I wish to make it there, lay in bed, and remembers bits and pieces of me so I can put myself back together in my head.
maybe I’ll be less lost in there.

but the wind touches me so pretty and tells me to go around the block again.
and the cars are being repelled from my road somehow, so I am essentially alone.
I could close my eyes.
they feel closed but in fact, my eyes are wide open right now.
but I am already dreaming.
dreaming of me dreaming.
I was let in, welcomed, made comfortable with tea, so I’m going to stay while.
i’ll take my coat off.
i’ll wipe my eyes off, because somehow tears made themselves present.
i’ll smile. In my daydream.
because I hardly can in real life.
my eyes are dry in real life.
like the land where I live.
it hasn’t rained in awhile.
and the static from the television screen is turning more and more black.
it’s nighttime, and the ceiling fan turns off.
my shadow is gone.

and lately, that’s been what I think about but in reality I’ve been sitting at a red light.
zoned out.
unaware that there’s life outside of my head.
who knew?

it’s like my blinking sometimes puts my defenses down
and my mind makes like a vacuum entirely to all of me,
and poof– I’m gone.

sincerely, jdm.

I come running.


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I distinctly remember looking at you with such passion that my eyes quickly grabbed every feature on your face for safe keeping in memory.
And while putting it away, I remember my heart in full swoon that I was able to have you that near to me to look into your eyes and keep in secret that I saw tides and I saw the moon and I saw meteors collide and time ran down to absolute nothingness like sand from an hourglass that shattered in my hands and vanished mid-air.
But I was filled, my heart could burst. My chest felt full. Your embrace filled me, your presence made my blood rush and boil at the same time. My fists would clench, and my nerves would urge me to caress your skin for balance. So I did. And I felt you come closer and closer until you eventually put your lips on mine and my eyes shut slowly to eventually see this new scenery of mountain fog going over the peaks very quickly and my breath was taken away with it.
Your body heat  was so close to my own, that it multiplied. This was the only time I felt comfortable with sweat collecting on top my skin and rubbing to your skin.
Our bodies would coincide with each other, we were that alike and that different at the same time. Our hands would find their way to interlocking each other and then every move felt natural to follow up to, I felt all of you become one to me. But at the same time I was unaware if the feeling was mutual because my mouth would never ask. Only continue to kiss areas that I knew you’d enjoy my lips on. I thought that would be enough. Felt so. We were so alike and so different. Coexistence. There was no reflection of me in you, but there was you in me. We were one. We were alike. We were different.
Our breaths matched up but the feelings in our voices wouldn’t.

Still, I always want your voice to make its way to me again. The relief I’d feel to know it was enroute. I told you I hate when you say my name but because I hate the feeling in my stomach when you say it. Please understand. Directing yourself to me. To me only. You are saying things to me. Things that I don’t take lightly. Things that I consume and weighs heavy on my heart, first. Stomach, second. I feel that if I were to open my mouth at that time that the butterflies would spill out of me and scream love so loud and so often that you’d finally have no other choice but to understand and cope with why I respond to you like I do.
Sometimes I decide to be silent. Most times.
I let my body talk to you, and your body talk to mine.
Our conversations are heavenly. And I keep gathering these moments in my head. Certain instances where you are being expressive with your eyes, with your lips, with your voice, with your hands, and I try my hardest to scramble for a pen in my head and write it down like this story here.
I feel as if we’re on a train ride at times, because I feel here and there in a matter of 5 minutes to the hours that we are together and I look at the world different there on.

You change me, you’ve defined me wholely now.
I am the person I am now, because of you.
I yearn for you when I feel lost and anxious.
The nursing feeling in your voice when you say my name and when we say silly things to each other.
Your laugh.
The nerves in me chemically react so many emotions in my mind during those times, there’s probably much panic inside of me. My internal systems.

Sometimes I turn my cheek to let the butterflies go a few at a time, while the train continues to run.
I watch them go about over the fields that I imagine that they’d be happy to journey through.
Then we find ourselves venturing each other, when I turn my cheek back to you.
You kiss it, and things are hectic and pause altogether at the same time.
It’s the most fascinating thing next to pleasuring you.
Next to, you.
You and everything of you.
I neglect myself entirely to not neglect myself of you, because of the bliss you give to me.

I am afraid to make something of myself on my own, because I don’t know how to go back to being something without your voice echoing my name in my ears.
I want to keep the train going because there’s soothing in this ride.
I am afraid of things becoming nostalgic and only nostalgic to the point that they will feel made up sometime soon.
So would you care to continue giving me these experiences?
I need continue to have these escapades or I will find you plain one day and maybe the
colors that bleed out of me now will run me dry.
And I will eventually get up whilst you are mid-sentence and turn my back to you.
I don’t want that.

There won’t be you in anybody else, tell me that.
Assure me of that now, please.
I need the tides, the moon, the meteors, the sand, the colors, the blood to rush, the heart to beat, I need the butterflies, I need everything.
Until I am strong enough to know what to make of it.

I am afraid of nostalgia.
I am afraid of closing my eyes one day while you are saying my name, and feel nothing.
I need the sweat to continue to collect, I need the comfort, I need your eyes to provide the sceneries, I need our friction.

I am afraid of nostalgia.
I am afraid of new.
I am afraid of change.
I need to feel the train running smoothly at all times, I need the motion sickness to be blocked out by the love that you fill me with.

I am afraid of nostalgia.
I am afraid of new.
I distinctly allow myself to remember you swiftly once, and in detail the next.
Because you don’t give me consistency.
I never know when you are going to allow me to see you again.

I walk into nostalgia and then I feel you tug on my shirt and I run to you as soon as your body warmth is close enough for me to feel.
The sweat collects.
And I feel the absence and presence of gravity, the moon, and the tides behind me.
I hear them.
And I come running.

sincerely, jdm.

lost in translation.


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the leafs are changing again
and we’re in the same place
how crazy that the same heart that loves
can be the same one that hates
both require passion
both require space
both require you

you are your brain
your brain is you
your brain makes you conscious
your brain along with its nerves
feel when I graze my fingertips along
your back when you’re tired
and your face when you’re near

our mouths are only active when courageous
and I fall to shyness so I say little
but eyes can say things too, without a tongue
the same tongue that can spill out adoration
amongst words
can curse at you and wish bad things
but still can intertwine itself to another
in love or in hate
in love or in hate, my goodness
are you hearing this? It breaks me
the passion on the tongue spreads like a liquid substance
through your veins
that burns, and hurts, but feels like ecstasy
my goodness but the pain is avoidable, how absurd
how divine
it’s real, it happens

I have felt it,
I am sure of the feeling
it is as if you’re staring at the sun
and the stars simultaneously
they show themselves to you
and your skin absorbs it
every part of you feels like there is gravity absent and it can sure make you feel like it is very true
I have felt it
with you

the heart always receives blame
but it is our eyes that are seeing
the leafs change and our brain
puts the picture together for
the realization that we are in the same
damn place that we were in last year
and grief pushes onto us because
we are so lost
so so lost

and we want to do things right so badly
but our brain wants our nerves to feel
the sensation of fingertips running on our
skin so the brain leads your fingers on
his skin

and his skin is so soft
and love is spilling out of you in various places
and it is hard to contain yourself
live falls in the floor and so do you

I hope we learn our lesson sooner than later
because the floor is hurting and our mind has got itself going insane
and it is blaming the heart
but the poor heart is only pumping blood to it
with hope that one day it will stop and learn
its lesson before it cannot pump further

we leave a lot of words trapped on the tip of our tongues
wouldn’t you say? don’t speak
your words chastise me
they’re so drowning and it’s bad because I want to swim in them but I shouldn’t these waters roar
These tongues will place themselves on one another so that we may not be expected to
exchange how we feel
but let our bodies say
but it is our brain leading our whole selfs into these situations
and we damn our mouths and tongues
and hearts
and everything
when it should be our thought process

the one that began with a twinkle in the eyes
that made your blood boil in your heart
and your brain shattered leadership amongst
every inch of you to walk yourself into
a big mess
a big big mess
because you are being controlled
by minor parts of you
and you are falling apart

in the name of love
but he tastes so sweet
and lovely.

sincerely, jdm.

things that my eyes say, but my mouth won’t.


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It’s not fair that I see fields of the greenest pasture in your eyes and you only see the brown in mine
Are you looking hard enough?
Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking

Thinking about you drives me to and from confusion and disappointment
Over and over.

But I refuse to move. You aren’t good for me
But I can be for you.
So why be selfish?
Don’t move.
That’s what I do.

You haven’t conquered me but you’ve conquered my mind
You’ve made it your home
Without asking if I could make space for you
But now you’re the sunlight peering in from
my window in the morning while the song I had playing last night into my sleep repeats itself but in a non-melancholy way as opposed to the night before
where I could hardly keep myself composed
In thought that you’re the only person that gets me because I let myself be gotten by you because I wanted you
I want you

So why be selfish?
Don’t move.
That’s what I do.

Time is something we don’t have
And we’re always chasing the sun
And the moon
Then the sun
And moon
Like we expect for the moon to pick to come first one day miraculously and the sun second

It’s the oddest thing because we like consistency and hate change
But we want change so badly sometimes
Because we dislike that consistency

You’re a poem that’s easy to love in the first line and easy to hate by the third
Love in the fourth
Hate by the sixth
But I hope to hate you in the seventh
And love you in the ninth

The final line.

You’re an ocean and there’s far more to you than just the shoreline and a mile in.
I hope you know.

It’s not a question of whether you choose me or not.

I’m not selfish, however I am doing myself
some good in choosing to love on you
even though your cheek is turned away from me
I will kiss it, and let it say much more than just that

My kiss will leave things lingering on your skin far more than the love I hold for you.

Far more than words.

The sensation will taunt you.

Like you taunt me.

Things are changing
I’m staying
Not moving
That’s what I’m doing.

These are things that my eyes say, but my mouth won’t.

These are things that I want to say, but you occupy my mouth

in words and having it connect with yours.

sincerely , jdm.