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J L S Feb 8
an ending poem,
to a series of nine.

nine times i’ve spilled over,
in a hidden honesty,
smiling at myself and how hard it is
to fall for the right people.

she told me once a little while ago,
that we can’t help falling in love
and i’ve told myself at least a hundred times
this morning alone.

these are all for her,
in different ways, all saying
the exact same thing.

that i’m stuck on her,
hooked on her like a drug
that’s dragging me to sobriety.

and those out there,
reading my emotions like
a foreign language—

none of them catch,
that i wrote these the way i fell for her,
with no warning, quietly,
immediate, from the beginning
coming from single letters
and hints, just for the two of us.

it might be best to end it quiet,
i enjoy loving this way,
only up in my mind.

so that’s it, that’s where i’ll leave it,
just an ending poem in a series of nine.
a little complicated look at this heart of mine.
J L S Feb 8
never not smiling when i’m there,
only laughing at my own existence.

days and days are passing us, quick,
but every moment feels like the first—

i think of all those girls i fell for,
that made me beg time to go back to day one,
and now every day, is the first day.

i can’t tell if i’ve loved her for minutes, or years,
because time goes to sleep when she’s around,
and wakes back up a week later, forgetful.

and we lay there staring at the sky,
pointing and laughing at our place in time,
she’s laughing because she’s blessed to finally be here,
and i’m laughing because destiny plays tricks on me
and i didn’t meet you a year or so ago.

i read a line once that told me,
right people at the wrong time are wrong people,
and if she’s wrong,
then being right is worthless.

as i said,
there’s no pain, only laughter,
laughter for the sake of passing days
and a smile for the time, any time,
spent with her.
J L S Feb 7
i think of her in another language,
all of her,
because she can only be explained in spanish,
leaving us american boys falling over ourselves.

you hear those words and you see her smiling,
and your body knows of their beauty,
but your mind is lost in translation,
sometimes it’s better to be quiet and stare.

and the way she breaks apart her words,
changes the way you’ll hear them for good,
in my thoughts,
even my name rolls differently.

and i swear when i see her,
a latin guitar erupts and Un Beso drowns me.
hay una mujer, Romeo sings
que domina mis sentidos— in every way.

my world is one of poetry again,
romantic dreams and all the things,
we only think we see in movies,
until a girl like her comes around.

i’ll look at her
and think only in languages i do not know,
trying to make sense of my love
and what she means.

because she’s everything but english,
everything but what i understand,
and it’s an exciting thing,
to know nothing,
to not understand any,
but this love.
J L S Feb 7
this is starting to get harder,
because i think it’s getting easier,
to fall for a girl
with her hands full.

but brown eyes are too easy to love,
too sweet,
much too infinite,
and i’ve really got it bad.

i told her once that i think i enjoy it,
the pain in loving somebody
in silence, but it’s an addiction
and **** am i hooked on her.

she’s changing things for me,
spanish music is beautiful again,
i can get drunk on her dancing
and high on that laughter.

she’s making life a little easier,
a little brighter
and with every morning i wake smiling,
she’s already there in my mind.

my name doesn’t run in her head,
and my smile isn’t what she’s dreaming of,
because angels are meant to save us,
not fall in love with us.

even in all of this hopelessness,
my affections find a home
just knowing that she’ll be there,
to be dreamt of, in secret.

i’ve learned that lying hearts can’t be broken,
and i apologize in advance,
for i may never be truthful again,
just leave myself to have love in dreams.
J L S Feb 7
nightfall
will be the death of me,
when the shadows run across that face
and all of her is hidden away,
only to be searched for in conversation.

and then the ceiling lights illuminate,
her shadows are done away with,
colors are thrown across the canvas of her face
as if she were a Pollack painting.
and i’m left staring.

and a lack of words keeps me searching
beyond her lips, her smile and
those eyes that have caged me,
and in the end,
there are no words for her beauty.

what i’d give for a kiss,
when even a longing embrace is too dangerous for my heart,
me vuelvo un cobarde,
quisiera besarte pero no me atrevo,
and i return to my imaginations, hopes, and sinful dreams.

her hand slips into mine,
my world freezes over
and my heart is all but screaming
but we’re all deaf to it,
which for now, is the best thing.

those are the moments i’m living for now,
small slips into dreams
and meaningless smiles
that for a moment i can tell myself,
are only for me.

nightfall in turn,
might just be keeping me alive.
J L S Feb 5
even in weakness,
my heart looks far across the room into hers
and finds some strength in the fact,
that people like her still exist in this life.

my body is shutting down some,
collapsing from one drink, two, three—
and she sees me and understands it,
that every sip is a sprint away from here.

the beauty of it, i suppose is that
for a few days on now,
running hasn’t been an option,
only freezing when i see her again.

i catch myself smiling even writing these words,
and it’s an odd thing to be at peace
and empty,
all in the same passing moment.

culpables is playing, my coffee is horrible
and my mind is far away from here
tucked into the damaged hands
of the one who looks at me, and knows.

without words,
she makes me want to scream a million of them,
or at least write them down,
to save for a day that i’ll be waiting for, not hoping for.

i used to say that i chase heartbreak,
to pull words from the quarry in my chest
but there’s no heartbreak here,
only a smile i’m dying for.

we can play hide and seek with these affections,
and if in 30 seconds, 30 days or 30 years you find them,
you’ll have to tell me what you think.
J L S Feb 5
listen, it’s a wonderful thing,
to get hurt by this girl.
there’s innocence in the way she’s doing it,
in the way she has not the slightest clue.

i think she knows how lost i am,
not lost in her eyes or smile
or any place that i want to be
but out in the middle of nowhere.

there isn’t much i know about myself right now,
i know i’m tired and frozen and
i know i’m falling for her.
i guess i have peace in at least knowing those things.

i’m distant from both her and the world,
and i could love her the same from far away,
from miles away,
her heart is already miles away.

i want to get on that plane soon, and leave this all behind me
because you can’t fall hard for an unloveable girl
when you’re all alone,
a glacier in sight and mind.

oh how she doesn’t know,
that her smile and twinkling eyes for someone else
are a poison,
for the hopeless ones like me.

i wish my sadness and desperation
was as cryptic as my heart,
maybe then i’d be the happy kid.

it’s a wonderful thing,
to get hurt by this girl.
there’s innocence in the way she’s doing it,
in the way she has not the slightest clue.
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