Dripping life

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she cut her wrist.

She cut her wrist in order to convince herself she was human.

She used her blood, and with the finest calligraphy wrote out her life.

She cut her wrist to prove to you that like every other human being she was built on the same preconceived notions and unrealistic realities as everyone else.

she bled.

as she wrote out her life she continued to dip her fingers in her bleeding wrist,

on each and every one of the pages in her book titled “life”

the autobiography written by her, for her.

a road map for herself, for him, for them,

map for all of those who just never understood.

a “must read” in order to be granted access,

a “best seller”,

but sadly like most books it just sits onto of your coffee table.

She cut her wrist and started writing her book.

She is still writing her book.


written with the most durable and long lasting ink,

her blood.

once dried it was her past forever,

but as she wrote and

as it dried she

realized that while it’s apart of her book it isn’t all of her book.

a mere chapter.

She cut her wrist to prove a point to the world,

and in the end her cutting her wrist lead to her

understanding that she is alive and not dead like they told her.

She bleeds red, and its warm

and she can see the cut with her eyes,

feels the blood between her fingers

smells the metallic smell of her dripping blood as it pools around her.


She cut her wrist for the wrong reasons

but in the end cutting her wrist saved her.

cutting her wrist meant finding her life.

Gabriela Tejada ❤

His Demise

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She was a Myth at this point,

A legend.

She demanded Silence,

She demanded respect.


Smoke danced around her

as fire ignites within her

the world rotating beneath her

as she hushed him

then she laughed.


He cursed  her name three times

into the night sky not realizing her power.

As he cursed his demise became true,

she appeared,

then she spoke

“Peasant, Speak forever everneath your Iron Queen”

Her eyes held him captive,

his universe of extraterrestrial existence in her hands

holding him captive by the clusters of stars that poured out of her lips

words that her tried to hold onto but couldn’t maintain.


Her Domain, your prison

Her World, your existence

Her Universe, your extinction.

Gabriela Tejada

A Luxury

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Anders Røkkum

breathing became a luxury,

a luxury She didn’t want anymore.


he had Her around the neck on an endless rope of five fingers

four letter word of suffocation.

Her resolve and dignity at his mercy.

endlessly squeezing as,

She sat on Her knees hands behind Her back

like a natural born submissive.

eyes clouded, glazed over by the reality of the magnitude of

Her impending death.

he squeezed and squeezed as

She contemplated Her death over his

love and affection“,

and then he let Her go.

he always admired the marks he left around Her neck,

like an artist admiring their work.

always making sure to stop right

before She falls into unconsciousness because

“Where is the fun if you become unaware?”

he’d say as he smiled.


She gasped,

then She coughed.

Her breathing labored

Heartbeat erratic,

hands all over her face

as it cleared away the fallen tears,

and streams of sweat.

every night it was the same


every night as She panicked Her way into consciousness

all She wanted was to wake up



like clockwork, after ever dream

She gets up from her bed and walks over to Her mirror,

and every night you can hear her humorless laugh

as She says

“just because the marks aren’t there for all to see,

doesn’t mean the pain isn’t there for me to feel.”

Gabriela Tejada ❤


Poetry Is My Favorite Language

Screen Shot 2017-05-20 at 5.56.39 PMIf I had to describe my style of poetry I would describe it just that, my poetry. Gabriela-esque style of poetry.

Tonight I sat down and really read Audre Lorde’s Interview with Adrienne Rich, and it moved me more than I could’ve imagined. For so long I would go to my best friend and explain to him that my poetry felt as if it was an out-of-body experience. There are two Gabriela’s the one you meet, and then Gabriela the Poet.  I can’t count the amount of times I’ve sat back after writing a poem after the surge of emotions have left me and thought ” Did I actually write that?”. On page 81 of Sister Outsider Audre Lorde explains to Adrienne Rich how Poetry became her language, her way to express her emotions. She would recite a poem when asked what she thought of something, or felt, and that’s exactly what I do. The only difference is that when I can’t express something in the moment I go and write them out alone. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve been told that I am “emotionless” or, that I need to be less “robotic” and more  ” authentic”. All of these remarks are coming from people who have no idea that I write poetry, or who knew I wrote but never took the time to actually read my poems. There are close people in my life that I haven’t allowed into my world enough for them to understand what poetry means to me, because I know deep down they just would not care enough to understand. I’ve written other posts about what poetry means to me, but after finally reading Sister Outsider I can say I truly understand.

Poetry is my voice.

Poetry is my favorite language.

Like Audre Lorde, when I was in grade school we had ‘Poem in our pocket day’, and I would always have a Langston Hughes poem in my pocket. My favorite poem has to be “The Dream keeper”. I guess I loved that poem because of its purity.  As we grow up we are told that our dreams aren’t enough, we are made to feel as if what we have to say doesn’t matter.  I don’t think young me really understood the truth behind this poem or the accuracy, but the 22-year old me fully appreciates the truth behind this poem. While we are adults now, and our dreams have been touched by ” the too- rough fingers of the world” we should never give up on them.

20170809_135508 As a child books brought me solace, brought me wholeness. This poem brought me happiness, and I actually still have the exact poem that I used over ten years ago during one ‘Poem in your pocket day’. In retrospect, It’s amazing how something so small had such a huge impact in my life. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and speak to that Gabriela, I wonder if knowing what I know now would change her views on herself and her love for words. But, at the same time, I wouldn’t change anything.

For so long I’ve created these worlds in my poetry, lived in others worlds through their books as a way to “travel, and “escape”. It’s easier that way. There is less pain and remorse when you live in your sheltered mind, but there is so much beauty with living in the real world.

While every character in my poems isn’t me directly, it has to do with someone or a certain aspect of my life/ emotion that I just could not express. Therefore, I created an entire world around these emotions. A world where that feeling or emotion was the sun, and everything and everyone revolved around it. I’ve had to physically stop everything that I was doing to write because the emotions and power surging through me just had to be written down, had to be expressed in poetic words. The sun needed planets to orbit it.

Audre Lorde tonight open my eyes to my own words. I have this intimacy, and attachment to my words because they are the part of me that I can only ever fully express through verse. She made me realize that the reason why for so long I have felt like something was missing was because I never fully acknowledged that there is only one Gabriela. Gabriela the Poet. My words and poems are what keep me not only sain, but alive in a word of chaos and broken people.

While I don’t have a favorite poet, I do love Edgar Allan Poe “Dream-Land”, Langston Hughes “The Dream Keeper”, and Wallace Stevens ” Bouquet of Roses in Sunlight”. Poetry is beautiful. Live life, and make sure you are living it for yourself, not anyone else.

Gabriela Tejada ❤

~Thanks kyle ❤ ~

( Fun fact- Those are my Natural Nails!)

Anatomical Heart

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As you get older you learn to differentiate between passion and lust.

So many confuse love for obsession,

not realizing that the feeling should surpass the flesh and touch the Soul.

Many falling,

free falling into toxic,

into unnecessary pain caused by naiveness

caused by lack of self awareness.

Many giving what they don’t have to give,

giving a heart they don’t own,

giving a self they don’t care enough to love first.

Ultimately, loving them more than they love themselves.

Love isn’t determined by anything tangible,

but rather everything spiritual.

Love becomes a spiritual bond between two souls

on the same wavelength,


and wholeness.

As you get older your sense change,

you start seeing souls instead of Fleeting looks,

Hearing spoken words instead of meaningless ‘texts’

Feeling wholesome touches of the soul, rather than superficial

touches of the outside body.

Gabriela Tejada ❤



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She found peace within the jungle of sorrow and concrete.

A tiny spec of wholeness in a world surrounded by pain, 

She found herself in the pond of eternity.

In the dark shades of nature,

she found light. 

She found solace throughout the trees

and independence within the winds and sounds of freedom.

She Found Life.

Gabriela Tejada ❤