Purple oceans are gentle in my dream, even caring,

They speak in a language of both roses and ice,

That I never have to wake up from my dreams,

From the reality that they never exist,

That I fooled and lied to myself,

That I fooled my veins and the cruelty of caring,

For dreams I will never wake up from.

Remembering loss in laughter,

Sharpness against my tongue; two or three roses,

That never asked to be looked at, to see the green.

Remembering loss in laughter,

Hot tears that follow the summer,

That never asked to be looked at, I never asked for this.

I have PTSD, the flashbacks and shaking,

My self-honesty and my trauma,

Ice within my glowing backbone,

You will make fun of my shaking,

You will take away a few of my bones,

But I am surviving, even with my PTSD.

The smell of roses and lavender oil saying goodbye,

The love for fragrance follows in sleep,

Hiding the dust and sad text messages,

The creativity of loss falling into deep,

Poetic hands are crying in bottomless void.

I lost her when I saw the first lie,

Written by her and I ran,

It was just one lie,

Curled with gossip and brown tears,

Known by her and I ran,

I lost her as she talks to other friends.

Productive mornings,

Lemon and water drink,

Sunlight streaming through the cleanest windows,

Remembering my disability, and the little things,

I am a survivor, with the waterfalls,

Writing about productive mornings.

The games of “push and pull,”

Waking up to talk to nightmares,

Waking up for “push and pull,”

In the red veins of PTSD years later.

Work ethic for a woman of color like me,

Your blue and printed words,

Not appreciating, not quoting forward,

Not compensating, for my emotional,

And physical labor, nothing.

Work ethic for a woman of color like me,

While you push the yearly fruits of my emotional work,

I am a writer, a typist,

I am an activist, a social networker online,

I am a counselor, creator.

Work ethic for a woman of color like me,

You never appreciate me enough,

You never see me enough,

Yet larger than life expectations you put,

Exhaust me to no end.

Repetition and repetition,

Anxiety makes me want to sleep,

And not sleep, or gaze in ice,

Writing hundred same words in my soul,

Eating the words whole, funny dinners,

Anxiety makes me want to sleep.

Domestic workers who are women,

Supporting their families at waves of migrant crisis,

Shaping societies,

Organizing households,

Their inspiration unappreciated during migrant crisis,

When they deserve to be paid better,

Financial compensation,

Appreciate domestic workers.