i do not wear
heartbreak well.

i dress it
in plaid skirts
and loose shirts
under
cheap make-up.

i keep it
hidden in between
the pages
of a horror story
that you showed
abhorrence for.

i write it
in forms of sonnets
that overcome the
acrimonious ways
your words found themselves
tangled with mine.

i say it
in jumbled thoughts
and incoherent murmurs
that clouds memories
of warmth and sunlight.

forsooth,
heartbreak
does not suit me.

i am
a confusing person.

i may
love things
that i hate;

i may
hate things
that i love.

sometimes
i adore the sun setting
and i close my eyes
as the sun drapes itself
with dust and memories.

then
i despise the way
the sun rises
with false anticipation
for children chasing them,
desiring to touch
even a glint of gold
and sunlight.

but i try not to love
the way your crooked smile
makes everything look
endearing.

because
i am afraid
that i will soon learn
to hate it.

the warm wind
of the
fourth of july
rested on the
arch of your back
after a
precarious tempest.

the cicadas
cried,
so did you.

the falling leaves
rustling,
brushing the
wind;

i finally
felt
at ease.

you stand
beside
each other,
gazing
at the
inertness of
her body.

there is
beauty
in words unspoken

for their
silence
held the
entire universe.

it is the rattling of
the picture frames
that you kept hidden
in the back of your mind,
hanging against the
apricot wall;

it was the tremor
that shook every
glass windows
of your body;

the distant knocks
of strangers
you met in your
past life;

it will hurt you
but you still relish
on the feeling of compunction
seeping onto
your delicate bones;

it will come unexpected,
meeting you at every rendezvous

and you welcome it
with warmth and
joie de vivre.

you were
peter pan.

and i was
‎wendy.

you were always seeking
for the intricacies of
compunctious realities,

that you considered
the one standing before you
as a vestige of existence.

and when i finally let you go,
you still searched for
the great mishaps.

afterall,
you were
peter pan.

and i am merely
a surfeit of mirrors
that reminded you
to grow up.