Some nice dependant has no clue
how rare of an encounter it is,
when she handles your café.  
Someone is designing
Some shoes
To be in a store, out there..
that you’ll eventually get,
to walk your way..
—To me.

And I still remember every Christmas.
how I was hopeful, longing,
For what life had to offer.
I dreamed of love—
And how I would flourish in it.

It’s in my soul—
Like flesh pierced
By the glass-shaped pain
Sharp and raw.

Nobody knows how to help

I try to remove
the shattered memories
Each shard
Lacerating my insides,
Touching my spirit,
Echoing in my bones.

A ****** mess, I get more hurt.

Everything I touch—
stained
with overflowing emotions
Red, intense, thick
Heavy—  

It’s a deeper wound
Larger than myself
It keeps cutting
It keeps tearing
My hope

You get second-hand
updates
Of the way their hair looks
Piecing together glimpses
Of a parallel life
You hope next time
Some mutual friend shares their face
On a random Sunday
On that photos app
they look happier.

The symptoms included:
Chest tightness, nauseas
Laboured breathing, heavy heart.
They say it’s a natural reaction
—I must be allergic—

To

     Bitter memories and regrets.

There is another timeline
Where we are home,
—after a lovely Sunday birthday dinner
of friends

We are thinking of hosting one next.
We agree everyone will love the dessert.
We complain about tomorrow
Usual Monday’s sorrow
We do our nightly routine
I ask you if you want some water
For your bedside

—Not in this cruel one, no.
Yet in some other, —kinder— it is.

We could never be.

You had a malice in you,
I couldn’t recognise in me.

We could never be.

The roots of your envy,
Started to grow stagnant,
In the depths of my being.

We could never be.

I had to understand.
I couldn’t change this fate.
I had to let go of my faith.

We could never be.

The endearing love,
The Christmas parties,
The summers to come.

I am aware
Ignorance is bliss.

Yet,

I am aware.

I am too awake.

I am fully conscious!

This shall be the death
Of all my progress

I am aware!
Can you numb me again?

My mind is poisonous

I am aware

I am my own

                    worst enemy.

There’s potential
hidden in plain sight
Can’t you see it igniting?
—soul’s fire? The spark?
A brief glance
of my future plans..
Cozy and picturesque
I reckon they seem
  so lovely..
—In your eyes.
Surrender, will you?
It’s for the better
Tension is tempting
But resisting.. is crazy!

Evening air and dry text replies
It is a cold winter day
in the midst of July.

Clear and loud silence
surrounding her steps.
The sudden reflex to deflect.

A random call. A sudden ‘yes’.
Opening door, a familiar face.
Same old, same old.. exhausting exchange.

Dancing hands, usual soulless gaze.
Curious hands, hypnotising embrace.
Rushing hands, the usual regret.

Lust overdoses, her soul feels sore
Another heart rash. Regret. Repeat. Regret.
emotional hangover,   unread morning-after text.

You could go hide
In the edges of the earth.
In the deepest of the oceans.
Yet, my soul would know,
I — would know,
you are there.
  For it finds you more still
Than any precise satellite
or Gps there could be.

I guess I’ll always be looking for you

In every crowd

And I know,
You won’t be there.

But maybe,

someday,

our eyes
will meet again

They keep on taking,

I am already empty.

What else can you strip me of?

My soul is already naked,

My flesh exposed

My heart vulnerable and lost

It’s a lovely day. Another lovely birthday. Sadness keeps expanding.. by the 29th, it has rooted in my heart

I’ve got a Time Machine.
But I have to warn you,
It’s a painful ride,
going to the past.

You don't have to search anymore
It’s okay, I’ll be your company
As we’ll be dreaming under different skies
Cloud nine resting , still, we can settle,
My embrace will be your home,
Your eyes will ground me
This feeling, our only battle

I’m selfish, I know
I’m stubborn, which, may be worse
I overshare… just not enough
I tend to ignore the facts that may be relevant
I’m amusing, yet I can make you sad
You’ll always want to know more,
you’ll never can
Poetry writes itself, doesn’t it?
Now I’m here, stuck,
with the image you want for me
no makeup will cover the fact that
I am still sad about it
No poem will soothe me enough
To ever forget about it

La galaxia de la que fue parte, colapsó
Con fuerza de mil soles,
cual supernova
Resurgió
Donde el viento sople, ella ira
Creando micro universos,
Al saludar

Que inmensas son
aquellas melancolías
Llenas de quizás— reales, tal vez,
Solo en alguna otra realidad.
Un sinnúmero de fotos
En una cámara sin revelar

A tote bag filled with poetry books and a head full of dreams
of you

You have never suffered of matters of the heart,      nor you ever will,  
your pain lays in your mind,    
in your non-existent calm

“So you are into words” he said
“That doesn’t make you interesting, I’ll cut the chase”
I think of that for every poem I write
For every lyric of every song that gets to my heart