Andrea Nino
Bio
Stories (5/0)
Infatuated
The cool touch of a knife on my skin makes my breath hitch and awakens me from my nap. In a dark room with only the natural light of the closet shining upon your face accents your beautiful brown skin and sad brown eyes. When mine met yours I see what you are craving, a need I must fulfill. My blood begins to warm the pointed end and the searing pain becomes numbing. It wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time. I willingly obeyed as long as you were content. As you cut you kiss my lips, my nose, my head, my cheek, my wound. A slow bleeding wound softly kissed better. You pulled away once you got your fill and licked the light red tint off your lips. Without a word i head into the restroom and cleaned the cut. It wasn’t deep, It never is deep, he makes sure not to leave scars. At least scars not to deep to notice. A vibrant red stain begins to oxidize turning black. I stare into the mirror not recognizing the ghoulish girl with the empty eyes counting the discolored scars from the past only I could see. I’d let you cut my body and bleed me out to feed your needs. As I cry from the pain of loving you. I could never die, it is your love that kept me alive. For it is your love that immortalized me.
By Andrea Ninoabout a year ago in Poets
H. Romantic
“Leave before he leaves you” my mind races. That's all love is to this generation. A series of doors slammed shut behind us in the abyss of darkness disillusioned with confidence that we’ll find another flame to take us out of the lonely winter. When summer arrives the flames that saved us from the cold becomes too hot to withstand. Just like “the one” before. I only hope that future generations despise the way we love and aspire to become more gentle with each other's hearts, minds, and souls. Only to experience a love without fear and pride. To learn how to communicate their needs to their partners and for their partners to listen without bruising their egos. To feel safe in the warmth of their arms around you without burning you. To kiss their soft lips that wouldn't dare tell you a lie. To trust their sweet words of affirmations and reassurances whispering “I'll never let you go”. Understand that love isn't the butterflies you get when you meet for the first time. Love is built with patience and compassion through hardships you go through to fan the flames two people lit.
By Andrea Nino2 years ago in Poets
Where Ever You Are
“The results come out today” my sister says through facetime. Her phone dings letting us know they are here. As my mom held the camera toward her she opens the email. Pulling the phone to her chest to hide the screen she says “I’m scared what if I don’t make it” my mom reassures her “you always have next year”. The anticipation builds as they go back and forward between uncertainty and false confidence. My vision begins to narrow down as I disassociate. The anxiety finally got to mom and forces her to look at the results. “Fine… I made it!” she exclaims “I told you would” mom proudly says. My sister cries out of happiness and relief as mom gloats about having a dancer for another year. In the mean time I am 3 hours away. Through the excitement I can feel the hollow space between my sister and I. They sound as if they were a distant memory recorded through tape. “Of course you would make it. You put in a lot of work last year and showed improvement”. I know I said it but I did not feel one syllable on my lips. We end the call and I sit in the loud silence of my room living in the past when I would get mad at my sister for not knocking on my door before entering or when we would practice to make tiktoks she would never post. Back to when I didn’t realize she was my home.
By Andrea Nino2 years ago in Poets
The Space Between
I watch the cold water run on the finger I spilled hot tea on. As my finger went from pink to red within a matter of seconds I had wished someone there to get mad at me for being a Klutz as they held my hand under the water and kissed it better. I find myself doing exactly that for myself when the thought crosses my mind. Living on my own has its moments where a little company would be nice, though I have grown to appreciate the comforting sounds and visions only my home can provide. My little room with a window for a wall faces the sunset and with only blinds to stop the light the colors of the dying sun seeps freely throughout my space. A little family of four, a single mother with two daughters and a baby laugh and cry below me before the pale moon light replaces the stripes of oranges and pinks surrounding us. How blissful. Nonetheless the moon's bleached light takes its effect on a Sunday night. The single mother puts the kids to bed only for her to lay in hers thinking about the week to come. Wake up, get dressed, Drop kids off, work, pick up kids, repeat. Wake up, go to class, work, workout, homework, repeat. Two separate lives with common thoughts and worries. Both laying beside an empty cold space with the only person they can rely on. Themselves.
By Andrea Nino2 years ago in Poets
Thankful for “Us”
Your touch is in every Daniel Caesar song. Reminiscing about how we made love in the ambiance of my dimly lit room after our shower. Your lips against my neck and hands around my waist guiding me through every one of your needs as you explore mine. Could this be love? I've never felt this with anybody else. All I know is that I’m grateful to have this moment with you and I don't want to ruin it by overthinking. So I let myself sink into your arms. I believed you when you looked at me and whispered “It is just you and me baby” then proceeded to kiss me. In that moment my little room became our whole world and we didn't want anyone to be part of our complexity. I loved you and I was so scared that it wasn’t reciprocated. As time passed you began to get bored of me and stopped trying to impress me. I noticed and squeezed harder. I cried every night knowing what I had to do but not wanting to do it because you were it for me. I wanted nobody else but the rest of you. You saw the relationship was hurting me yet you never failed to say “you shouldn't have to beg your boyfriend to love you, you deserve better”. Why couldn’t you become better for me? That Is until it was the last time you said it to me. The very last time was enough to shatter the hopeless romantic within me and I ended it through text because I knew I wasn't strong enough to do it in person or through the phone. “When I read your message I had to stop at a gas station because I was having a panic attack” you said in between yells. A break up text is what hurt you the most. Not losing me or how the girl that loved you is crying in your arms for you to understand how alone she felt. When in reality it ended when you told her “I think what I feel for you is more lustful than love.” But she stayed hoping you would change.
By Andrea Nino2 years ago in Poets