Sunday, August 20, 2017

Teenage Runaway

You say you’d hate it if we become strangers,
so I’ll put this down as a note for as long as our memories still linger.

I remember everything about us, from our first date
while I was peeling shrimp and got the shells all over my plate,
to when you walked me home until we reached my gate.
I remember how you made fun of me because I was always late,
and how I joked about terminal cancer and the stuff that you hate.
I can still recall the pet peeves that annoy you my dear,
like rubbing my eyes, or just placing my fingers near;
the sound, of scrubbing a sheet of paper, that you hear,
and when you see me not holding my cup by its ear.

Funny how I can remember many things but it is still true
that I forget everything else when I am with you –
everyone else becomes out of mind and out of view.
There is absolutely no name to how I feel
but I know we were happy, and it was real.

When I take a trip down Memory Lane,
it kills me every time and it drives me insane.
All these little things show me how easy it is to be given all up,
and make me wonder why love is never enough.

If life was a movie, we could have been a teenage-runaway,
elope to Alaska, Poland, Hawaii, or to Buzzards Bay,
but you are someone I regret setting loose on a runway
on a plane back to a place that is half a globe away.
There are unsaid things that I wish to turn back time to say,
like how you are neither my shelter nor my getaway,
because you are so much more than these, tu eres mi rey.


Friday, August 18, 2017

Kennedy in August

Kennedy in August, under the
sun that is falling
behind a vast green:
I watch, as every second goes by,
the clouds swim
in an ocean of their very own.
A bird, from a field of emeralds,
flaps into a stroke of shy amber
hidden between two mountains,
like a tiny spark of wild fire.
The flame burns through the white veil,
and tints its surroundings
with different shades of gold.

I was taught to write
with a purpose, a moral,
or at least a message - but today,
there is no message that I want
to convey, while I am sitting in awe,
on the Friday concrete I am seemingly melting into,
staring at such a beautiful reality that
I have never noticed before -
the same view from my balcony,
the same heat in Summer,
the same mountains and sky.
Only, I am now a house of gratitude
and a million moments of joy.