The Grammar of Letting Go

I used to whisper
I love you
to your ghost in my bed.

Now what comes out instead is
I loved you.

Blue

I think of the darkest places I have been
and I know
this is not that
this is not black

it is blue
it is a billion translucent saltwater drops
absorbing all the fiery pain of long wavelengths
and reflecting back the bright chill of short-lived sapphires

not darkness
but blinding light.

Amor en Pedazos

Yo me entregué a ti
entera.
Tú a mi
en pedazos.

Porque te gustaría creer
que la vida es así,
un momento fugaz tras otro,
negando el hilo que los une.

Porque no quieres ver
la pena
tejido en el mismo textil
que la alegría.

Quieres separarlos
evitarlos
cerrar los ojos
y alejarte de las agujas
que te sujetan
a la tierra
al tiempo
a ti mismo
y a los demás.

En algunos momentos,
a mí también se me ocurre.
Pero ya sé que es imposible.

El ciego aún deja huellas
aunque no las vea.

Broken People

Beware of
broken people
with soft exteriors

You only meet
the jagged pieces
when you get inside

And nothing hurts more than
a gentle hug
from a dull blade

Ache

For the most part, I’m ok.
But then

a silence will settle and
an ache
will radiate
from the center of my ribcage

twisting lungs & larynx into suffocating lumps
curdling memories along the sour synaptic connection
     between digestive and cerebral systems
detonating dormant tear ducts

and surfacing
like a hundred subtle stab wounds
on my desolate skin.

Sleepless in Chicago

I wish I was a heavy sleeper,
not so easily stirred by
pigeons at my window or
ravens at my heart.

Several Days After Watching “The Pianist”

Images
burned into my retinas

rage and sorrow
still splintering within my rib cage

a dizziness whizzing between grey matter
diving the depths of
human
depravity
and
resilience

limbs heavy with the burden to break
the cycle of centuries

a dry mouth and fingers
weary of words

ears ringing an echo of
Moonlight Sonata

haunted.