Strangely, my feelings drifted towards forgetting you,
     As though to lose our kisses between our two goodbyes
Or having found the truth of not being loved by you.
You know this love of mine, dearest,
     You know how to breathe. You know that I need you.
This hyacinthine sky does not appear reasonless,
Neither your body, your eyes, which swayed me towards love,
     For you are one, my love, only, so I believe in fate.
But when you go and then return
And then decide to go again, it is then,
That my hand was certain of your farewell
     And like that picture that slipped off of your fingers,
Consequently, I have forgotten you so sudden,
So fast, in fact, so swift that my heart
Does not leap towards yours anymore,
     Nor my lips lower for that kiss.
And this is where I'm sure
That this must be goodbye,
     This must be our fate,
          Apart, alive, asunder.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Infant formula...
The cries of the motherless
     Infant formula...*

© 2015 J.S.P.

And so I write of love
Thinking it’s the sane thing to do,
     Of over-thinking
Which overpowers the other,
Your love (your past love)
     Or mine.

Everyday seemed like a day after the other,
Only, that they move backwards,
Only, that they grow much painful
As days go by, as nights
     Are even worse.

Nothing hurts
Like a definite goodbye,
Unless it was an indefinite one.
I know for sure
     That I could have you back.

I love you so much that I miss you
And how I struggle
To make you understand
That I only miss you
     Because I love you.

And so my pen tilts from here,
Not knowing what to say,
     Only knowing what to feel.

     And we’re apart...

          We’re once were.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Count, my friend. Make them count.
Limit your words to ten, or less,
As though to conceal a panorama
Of thoughts inside a dreamcatcher,
Or the stars to a wallflower, I wonder,
If you infuse all flavors that there is, altogether,
On her doubled lip of plum, the herbs of your country,
An Asia of spices squandering her mouth,
Will she smile? Hunger is key
To her heart. Use it.

Rhyme, my friend, toy with the galaxies,
Unleash the behavior of a predator, an annihilator,
Ready to swallow the moon for her love,
And burn the Venuses of the Universe,
Her doubts, her insecurities.

Blind her with the imagery of love, her true self,
For love is blind, and is yet to see the light
That she emanates. My friend, flatter her
With the colors she was deprived of.

And then, slowly, unbridle your soul, your spirit,
The white mares of your chariot. I say, set foot
To your heart, my friend, and set your self free.
The constraint of words is the constraint
Of affection. It is to chain the Divine
To the old, old pillars of ambiguities.
     Remember that.

For it is with an I love you
That you write the poem of love, my friend,
     On her wrists, waist, her chest.

          Now, tell her that.*

© 2015 J.S.P.