You can finish my sentences.
This is sweet and
dangerous.
It means you also know
which strings to pull
to activate
my weaknesses.
I never saw it coming.
Such a silent unassuming assassin.
Floating in on
venom-tipped feathers
to pleasantly paralyze
my depleted defenses.
But I’m no fool.
And I’m a better poet than you.
So I’m off to write better sentences
that you
could never complete.
I used to whisper
I love you
to your ghost in my bed.
Now what comes out instead is
I loved you.
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.
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.
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
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.
I wish I was a heavy sleeper,
not so easily stirred by
pigeons at my window or
ravens at my heart.
