• Poetry

    The Dangers of Looking Backward While Walking Forward

    It’s easy to miss what lies ahead

    If you’re always looking behind you instead

    Yeah, you may be walking forward but by looking backward you’ll never know

    All of the potential you have and how you can grow

    It’s important to take risks once in a while

    Even if you fail miserably, taking those risks are still worthwhile

    Because you’re getting closer to your destination

    And by standing back up, you’re building a strong reputation

    Besides, not looking where you’re going is unsafe

    You may trip and fall into your own grave

    © 2014, 2018 Vic Romero

    All Rights Reserved.

    Happy graduation day! 

  • Poetry,  Speaking My Mind

    parasite

    i relinquished my power to you and my better judgement at my expense because your so-called love and cheap affection caused my heart to pound against the bones in my chest and you felt my heart jumping when you caressed my breast but you chalked it up to being in the moment although my feelings for you ran and still run much deeper and i ignored the warning signs and continued running as the descent got steeper and it all caught up to me when i tripped and fell and tumbled to my doom maybe we just met too soon otherwise you may have been feeling the same way too…but you don’t. you never did. why did i think that you did? did you change your mind? it feels like you have just been manipulating me all this time…and it’s not okay.  it’s not okay how you kept asking when i said “no” because i wasn’t going to change my mind at least not that night and it’s not okay how you reduced me to my body and it’s not okay for stringing me along leading me on convincing me that we’re something we’re not when you knew all along and you watched me comprised my wants and needs for this bullshit “friendship” like hell we were never friends and i’m still…unsure if i can keep trying to tie these loose ends don’t you see that you’re only hurting me why do i keep doing what you want you’re not the boss of me i want my fucking agency back because i’m tired of feeling mad and sad and anxious and scared this shouldn’t feel so hard and it shouldn’t hurt so much to cut you out you’re a parasite so get out of my sight get out get out get out

    © 2016 Vic Romero

  • Poetry

    playing games

    all this is, is a fling

    i remind myself as you grab my waist

    all this is, is a fling

    i repeat in my head as you hasten

    to pull your shirt over your muscular back

    allowing my fingertips to explore the expanse of your chest

    inhibitions, we lack

    all this is, is a fling

    i feel the words form in my mouth

    but then your tongue pushes its way in

    knocking them out

    your body forces me down onto your bed

    your body covers mine

    and you seek to pull apart my threads

    all this is, is a fling

    i grapple with the meaning of those words

    because i constantly seem to forget

    my heart subverts

    these fucking words in my head

    your lips are kissing and sucking down my body now

    i’m so hot and turned on now

    you’re torturing me

    both physically and emotionally

    why can’t you fucking stay?

    why can’t you please fucking stay?

    all this is, is a fling

    i clench my teeth when i remember

    that there is no future come the spring

    because you’re leaving at the end of december

    this is just a fling, Vic

    i finally accept it

    and every time i do, i feel sick

    but then that feeling is quickly replaced with elation

    © 2018 Vic Romero

    All Rights Reserved

    #repost

  • Poetry

    Self-Portrait at Twenty-two

    I.

    A reflection

    Of a forlorn face

    In the grimy window

    Of the bus as it creaks along.

    I try my hardest to look beyond it

    To look at the landscape as we drive along

    But the grimy windows don’t seem to permit it.

     

    II.

    The white smoke escapes my lips

    While black tar enters my lungs

    I sigh, in bliss

    My head buzzing and ears ringing

    Enjoying the silence from the cold evening

    The stillness

     

    Later, I reenter the party

    Mingle and mix with everybody

    And smile because for this one night,

    I’m not lonely

     

    Even later, there are

    Dark bedrooms and

    Faceless bodies with

    Forgettable names but

    Regrettable moments

     

    III.

    An accident.

    Blood…

    Broken bones…

    Barely breathing…

    The absence of a heartbeat.

     

    IV.

    Relief.

    In the form of a woman

    Caramel skin and dark,

    Almond-shaped eyes

    A soft smile when her lips say my name

     

    V.

    The golden sunlight-

    An unwelcome guest

    Shines through the cracks

    Of the closed blinds

    Seeping through the thin skin

    Of my eyelids

    Making itself known

     

    The sunlight illuminates the caramel skin

    Of the woman wrapped in the sheets

    Entangled in my limbs

    Breathing soundly

     

    Eventually, I succumb to its insistence

    That I arise

    I disentangle my limbs and

    I welcome the sun

    To this new day

    Stretching my arms over my body

    In salutation

    Then folding over my feet

    Bowing in respect

    And appreciation

    To be alive

     

    © 2018 Vic Romero

    All rights reserved.

  • Poetry,  Speaking My Mind

    Quiting Smoking (Version 2)

    We ignited quickly,

    The sparks between us

    Became consuming flames

    We burned bright

    On dark, cold nights.

    It was refreshing

    To inhale you

    And to exhale loneliness

     

    You may have been comforting,

    But you weren’t good for me

    You sucked out all my oxygen,

    Filled my lungs with tar,

    And singed my fingers.

    I had held onto your fire

    For far too long

     

    So I let you go…

    Dropped you to the ground

    To find a way out

    Of your ensnarement.

     

    You were addictive, though.

     

    A couple of days would pass,

    But I could never last

    For very long

    Without your fire

     

    © 2017 Vic Romero – Creative Writing Fall 2017

    Read the original version of this piece here.

  • Poetry,  Speaking My Mind

    over time

    first

    you will be dumbfounded

    your heart will plummet

    into the depths of your stomach

    as the whole world before you

    tumbles

    as if the entire universe

    was shoved into a dryer

    spinning

    steady yourself

    on someone’s shoulder

    first

     

    then

    when strangers

    you haven’t seen

    since you were a newborn

    all cluster together,

    solemnly murmuring

    donning dark colors

    touching the glossy wood

    of the coffin

    the magnitude of death

    will feel heavy

    you will

    need to sit

    and your aunt

    will comfort you

    then

     

    later

    when you call her up

    because you start to forget her voice-

    but the line has been disconnected

    when her seat at the table for the holidays

    is vacant

    year after year

    when her sister

    has become an only child

    when you get older

    and she doesn’t-

    the passing of time just means

    that she’s been gone longer

    you will understand

    the finality of death

    later

    © 2017 Vic Romero – Creative Writing Fall 2017

  • Poetry,  Speaking My Mind

    laborious thoughts

    what 

    is life after college?

     

    creation of visual art

    creating your own brand

    and poetry

    that represents deeper issues and meanings

    of the universe

    while

    you travel aimlessly

    to create

    to survive

    to find your own purpose

    on this grand, fucked up-

    beautiful globe

    do you turn to spiritual practices

    to see more clearly

    the beauty of the mess?

     

    or

     

    is it about

    working nine to five

    FULL TIME FULL TIME FULL TIME

    MEDICAL BENEFITS

    COMPETITIVE SALARIES

    R E T I R E M E N T plans

    so you can move out

    of your small, carpeted childhood bedroom

    and into a larger one

    with hardwood floors

    that you share with someone that looks at you

    with stars in their eyes?

     

    are there alternatives? what are they?

     

    what do i want?

     

    © 2017 Vic Romero

     

  • Poetry

    roses smell when they rot

    slowly,

    slowly

    you fall in slow-motion:

    eyes wide

    as you realize you are falling

    and as your hand is ripped

    out of mine

    ruby lips agape

    i’m entranced by the shock

    that is spread across your face

    the shock that you feign

    because, c’mon-

    we both saw this coming

    but unlike you,

    i opted to cross

    the street and let you go

     

    your head smacks the ground

    splitting open like a juicy watermelon

    the fresh flesh gushing out of the cracks

    forming rivulets that crawl over the pavement

    like red highlights in your hair

     

    © 2017 Vic Romero

     

     

     

  • Poetry

    healing

    i guess

    it was too much to hold together

    i expected too much

    i guess

    the stitches had had enough

    of sewing broken things back up

    i guess

    the threads were weak

    i guess

    the outcome was always going to be bleak

     

    © 2017 Vic Romero