Paw Prints

The first thing I see as I open the door
Is your favorite pillow laying on the floor
It smells of you and brings a smile to my face
As I picture you in every corner of this space

I miss your bark, even if I’d tell you to hush
I miss those paws that you licked too much
I miss those eyes that never once grew old
I miss those kisses with your little wet nose

Your puppy-like glee every time I’d come home
The sound of your nails clicking on the floor
I miss your little dance when you wanted to go out
I miss your little tail, always wagging about

If love could have saved you, I’d have never let go
But time is cruel, and you were growing old
Your cries of pain ripped right through my soul
Your eyes let me know it was time to let go

With a heavy heart, I held you so tight
Whispered “I love you,” and sang you goodnight
One last wet kiss, one last little sigh
I watched you sleep for the very last time

Sweet memories of you are what keep me strong
Never forgotten, you will always live on
Across the Rainbow Bridge, but never far apart
You’re alive in the paw prints you left on my heart

© Lily – 1/1/2017

*For mom and dad, in loving memory of their four-legged baby.*

RIP Daisy | 9/13/02 – 12/29/16


Blank Screen

The hardest thing about writing is the beginning, not knowing where or how to start. If I’m being honest, half the time, I don’t even know what to say. I guess the hardest part about writing is actually doing it. I don’t think I was meant to write, but the problem is, I really want to. I have more notebooks than any one person needs, full of crisp, blank pages. I obsessively sit in front of my laptop, drawn to the little Word 2016 icon, but when I open it up, it’s just an electronic version of my dust-collecting notebooks. I stare at the blank screen, and it stares right back. Uninspiring, but so full of judgement.

This has been a struggle for the past several years. I feel empty without writing, but I feel too empty to write. If things were going terribly, I suppose the words would flow as freely as my tears would. If things were wonderful, I’d likely be dripping inspiration. But life is just good; a tad dull and a lot regular. Not that I’m complaining, but who wants to read about regular?

A few years back, the words flowed a bit more freely. I had just discovered blogging, and it was love at first write. Writing, being read, and reading…being part of a community. It felt like family. I can’t remember when or why, but suddenly, it wasn’t the same. Weeks turned to months, and then to a year with nary a thing to say. I had made peace with the void. Then nostalgia kicked in. That bitch.

They say practice makes perfect. I’m not too sure, but I’ll keep on practicing. Maybe it’s a form of therapy. Or lunacy…writing with nothing to say. Maybe I just like the tapping sound of the keyboard. It’s new and shiny, and boy, does it sound lovely. Tap, tap, tap, nothing to say, tap, tap, tap. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see if this turns into more than just rambling. In any case, there isn’t a blank screen staring at me now, so I think I’m onto something.


She Is

She is
heart and soul,
a source of
utter joy,
and something more.

She is
mine and yours,
bigger than us both.
She is light
amongst so much dark.

She is
giggles and sighs,
the most beautiful of smiles.
Eyes bright with delight,
she is hope.

She is innocent and pure,
a new way of looking
at this world.
She is love,
she is joy.

She is art
where things once were dull.
She makes sense
of a senseless world.

She is warmth
in this unbearable cold,
she is hope
and so much more…
my baby girl.


© Lillian Figueroa — 12/2/2016


In The End

There, there,
dry your eyes.
Tears won’t turn back
the hands of time;
but you can try.

You can cry and scream,
beg and plead,
pray to the heavens,
down on your knees;
little good that will do.

Or you can feign in defeat,
that you’ve forgotten,
that your conscience
is saintly clean;
what a little liar.

But in the end,
none of that will matter.
In the end, the truth
can never be detained.

In the end,
you never can
wash the blood
from your hands.*

© Lillian F – 8/29/2013

**Inspired by the song “Oceans” by Evanescence. The last stanza is a line from this song. I’ve always loved that line. Too bad I couldn’t do it justice. Writer’s block is a bitch! (I know, don’t you love how much confidence I have in myself?)**

Not Even Trying

Wow. Talk about lack of trying. I have never gone so long without posting. Two whole weeks with nothing to say. Or more accurately, no energy to bother saying a single thing. To say I’ve felt disconnected from my blog is an understatement. Exactly one year ago, I was addicted to WordPress, and was slowly becoming more popular, which only made me want to blog more. I neglected housework so that I could dedicate more time to writing posts and reading other people’s blogs. At times, I professed my undying love to my computer more often than to my boyfriend. I also occasionally exaggerate. Anyway, the point is, I don’t feel that way anymore. Which would be fine, healthy even, except that I went from one extreme to the other. I don’t care anymore. It started as a serious case of writer’s block, but now, it’s just…who knows. Don’t get me wrong. I still very much enjoy reading other people’s blogs. I just don’t enjoy my own. Maybe inspiration will strike, and I’ll write something interesting that will make me proud. Maybe. Some day. I won’t hold my breath.

How do you cure this thing that goes far beyond writer’s block? How can I force myself to write, and not care how it’s received? I want to write just to write, but I can’t. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t have a public blog if I was just writing for myself. I want to interact, maybe get a laugh or two out of someone. It’s been ages since I’ve written something that could be considered funny. I want to write something that can touch people, something that might even make you cry. Sometimes I read other people’s blogs and I’m in awe of their talent. Maybe just a little jealous. But see, that’s my problem. I want to do and say all these things, but how can I, if I’m not making any effort? How can you accomplish something if you don’t even try? What a hypocrite. What a lazy little hypocrite. As if a blog post is supposed to just write itself! Silly Lily. I need to go to a writer’s therapy group or something. In the mean time, I’ll just keep not trying. I seem to do that pretty well.

Have a lovely rest of the week. Unless it’s raining where you are too, in which case…BLECH!!


Yesterday’s Lies

Things that
Cannot be unseen
Can be blinding

Words that
Cannot be unsaid
Can be deafening

Sometimes never knowing
Is never hurting

Because yesterday’s lies
Did not crush
Or break this fragile heart

But today’s truth
Changes everything
As it all crumbles
And falls apart

Lillian F – 7/22/2013


-*-Random and somewhat awful poem. No worries, I’m not depressed or anything. I’d also like to point out that you can’t get more random than posting a penis-ridden post one day, and then a depressing poem two days later. That’s how I roll.-*-

Random Ish About Me (AKA, Ways To Bore You)

  • I’ll be 25 this June. And in the blink of an eye, I’ll be 50, because that’s how time works.
  • This October is my 9th anniversary with my boyfriend. Makes me feel old. Don’t worry, I still love him.
  • Being unemployed for 8 months made me appreciate…being unemployed. (Not to sound ungrateful. But it was really nice having all day to do…absolutely nothing.)
  • Sometimes I sound like I’m being negative, but actually, I’m being realistic. There IS a difference.
  • When I sing along to songs, I imagine myself performing them live. I get really into it. It’s quite sad.
  • I love the smell of Spring. Sometimes I’ll walk outside and just breathe it in. And then I have to remind myself to keep walking, and not be the loser standing in the middle of the road.
  • When I hear stories of people helping others, I tear up a little. I love that there is still good left in this world.
  • For breakfast this morning, I had a piece of Entenmann’s Fudge Iced Golden Cake. CAKE…for BREAKFAST.
  • I have no willpower where Hershey’s Bliss is concerned. Or Starburst Gummibursts. Or M&M Mini’s. Or chocolate chip cookies. Or…this list could be endless.
  • I tend to count while I’m walking up or down the stairs. No idea why, I just do.
  • Sometimes I over-think what I want to say, and it doesn’t help at all…it never comes out right. Afterwards, I’ll think of what I could have said, which only leads to regret.
  • Some people might consider me lazy. I like to consider myself focused. Focused on what I really, really, really don’t want to do.
  • Being lazy is a skill, not a flaw. I can skillfully be lazy when it’s convenient to me, and when it will not result in my disappointing people and/or losing my job.
  • I should probably stop talking about being lazy.
  • I get what I like to call “mouth hunger.” My tummy isn’t the least bit hungry, but I’ll eat anyway, because my mouth makes me do it.
  • I hate feeling stressed. I know it’s a part of work life, but I’m not the best at handling it. Makes me want to quit…life. Haha. Just kidding.
  • Two days ago, I had an idea for a blog post. But then my brain turned my thoughts into goo. CRSS. (Can’t Remember Shit Syndrome.)
  • Can you tell this is a filler post? I’m sorry. I’m stressed and I’m going blind. Blame my job. (But don’t tell them I said that.)


She Found A Reason

Every morning
before he leaves for work,
he kisses her
and smiles tenderly
while she sleeps.

Every morning
she awakes with a smile,
feeling loved and grateful
for the little things
in life.

Every kiss hello,
every kiss goodbye,
and perhaps the most special,
is the loving look
in his eyes.

She found a reason
that she never knew she needed
to go on.
A reason for every breath,
every second, every minute,
every hour of the day.

A reason that makes it
easier to breathe,
a reason that makes her
feel more alive…
their undying love.

© Lillian F — 4/12/13

*I feel like this is so…unoriginal and blah. I’m trying, I swear. I can’t believe I used to write poems every day when I was a teenager. What happened?!*



Surrounded by
A crowd full of laughter
And echoes of happiness
I am not privy to

But there’s no one to blame
They’re not the cause
Of my silent pain
No one is aware
Of how much I ache

To be like them
To feel that I belong
To not be
Or Miss Nobody-Knows-My-Name

To feel a sense of belonging
However short-lived
Just one blissful day
To live and feel loved
And unafraid

© Lillian F — 4/10/13

It’s My Blog And I’ll Whine If I Want To

Being a grown-up is so overrated. I want no part of it. If my name’s on some grown-up list, please kindly cross it off. Because ugh. I’m being a big baby, I KNOW. But do you know how hard it is to go back to work after being unemployed for 8 months? Do you? I knew it would be hard to go back, but AHHHHH, it’s actually harder. Remind me to never get laid off and stay laid off for that long. It’s not worth it. I hate waking up full of dread for the 8 hours that await me. I hate driving to the office, being in the office, dressing for the office. I hate everything except for my paycheck. I guess it’s not really the office that I hate. I hate that I’m forced to hate Mondays again. Come to think of it, I hate Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays too. Saturdays are nice, but I kind of have to hate Sundays too because they lead to Mondays. Do you see what’s happening here? 6 out of 7 days are full of HATRED. That’s no way to live, people. We should demand a refund.

While some of you may think I’m just a lazy fart or an ungrateful bitch, please know I am neither of those things. I’m just a big whiny baby. You don’t understand though…my whole being is in shock. I felt so much joy every morning, waking up and knowing I had absolutely nowhere to be. It was a beautiful thing until reality stuck it’s huge nose into my business and demanded that I rejoin the real world. And just like that, my days of uselessness relaxation were stolen from me with no prior warning. I’m sure I’ll manage to readjust to this insane schedule of working Monday through Friday, but until then, I shall remain a big whiny baby.

Anyway, at least I survived my first week back. I felt like I was in the twilight zone at first, but after a while, everything felt fairly normal. (It’s weird going back to a job that you were laid off from when you already made peace with the fact that you’d never be back again.) Unfortunately, what I’m doing now is nothing like what I used to do, and that makes me very uncomfortable. I hate not knowing what I’m doing. I always want to do an awesome job. I worry too much about messing something up. I also have a fear of phones, and this job requires making many phone calls. Once I get into the flow of things, I’ll probably wonder what I was so worried about. But for now, I can’t help feeling anxious every time I sit at my desk. Stupid nerves. It’s bad enough I have to drag myself out of bed and into the office every day…do I really need stupid nerves on top of that? *Sigh* I think you’ve had enough of my bitching negativity, so I’ll end on a positive note…………bye!


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