You smile when you see me writing
tenably watching like a child
when I turn my prose into rhyming
I smile back: "this one's about you"
when I kissed you this morning
I suddenly realized you taste just like fruit.

Like a Pineapple, of all things considered
sweeter than a whole bunch of grapes
your skirt flaunts your skittles
and your legs take the proverbial cake
Piña Colada to go with my Enchilada
pretty please let me taste the rainbow?
I don't like Pineapple on my burger
on my pizza I don't feel it either
my taste buds become a bitter turbulent river
but I just love it on you,
that little thing that you do
dancing in that lil' grass skirt
make it our own Hawaiian Luau.

Your juicy lips
are a 100% from concentrate
like drinking from a can of Dole
blowing me a kiss, giving me a smooch
please drown me in them
a Pineapple falls ways far from an Apple
and SpongeBob lives in one of them.

From your eyes to your thighs
I think of way back when
my favorite fruit in the garden
you humbly became
it's been just peachy from there on end.
With the words we shared
as we laid in the hay
your laughter intoxicated my lungs
right down to my pores
and through my veins
and that's a good thing
always a good thing
put your hair up
the mirror loves a silly face
your sly smile for the camera
my photogenic exotic babe.

Endangered in this world
you are the only one of your kind
like an extinct Dodo Bird
please stay by my side
and let me one thing in you confide
that the forbidden fruit wasn't an Apple
alas, unknown to Adam
it was a Pineapple.

Shattered soldier in the middle of nowhere
with a body tattered of forgotten kisses
battered every inch from the waist up and down
and that’s how I go into battle
rattled.

Taking the cowards way out
is out of the question
it's not part of the equation
I live in no man's land setting
up tent above a land mine
ready to go off with what little is left of me.

I am a victim of my own friendly fire
a masochistic hit-man for hire
carry me in your arms
and out in of this ****** battlefield
that came to life right after your abandon
I held myself for ransom
******* on the same chair
made of your remembrance
where the untamed odor of your skin remained
and the fragmented pieces
of my flesh where deserted
left for the vultures of oblivion
facing a firing squad
and it was myself pulling the trigger
in the darkest of dawns
painting the air in blood
like finger painting from my son
I went into battle with myself
to rescue my own soul.

I went into battle without ammo
with love poems in my pocket
so I could set a bone fire
to keep me warm
during the long dreadful nights
where not a single star came out to shine
only the faithful moon
which reminded me of you
so either way my fate was doomed
in this unrelentless battle for my life
blindfolded with no cigar
I never wanted to lose.

To be a daddy again...."

To be a daddy again, I start to breathe again
suffocated by the anguish in my soul
and to feed my impatient impertinence
besides my little one, a new little one
grab the bottle and fix up her milk
to hope she doesn't cry long nights
and wakes up bright and early like her dad.

To be a daddy again is to bring my life full circle
and to end my never ending atonement
because I am as self-giving as I am self-loathing
minus the fearing, running through the clearing
across the spacious mine field of regrets
drowning my perennial sadness in the lake of kisses
that dried up with the winter.

To be a daddy again would be a dream
that knows no nightmares, or sleepless nights
a smile would be enough to efficiently suffice
my words, my thoughts, the song in my prose
that effortlessly becomes a sweet loving lullaby
to put my baby to sleep in the darkness of the world
and to wake up every morning to sweet loving eyes.

In my youth I learned to swallow
my depression with alcohol,
I learned how to write a love note
and to savor every minute of life
but I never bothered to learn how to drive
or pay attention in class
because I foolishly thought that I had it all figured out
everything but the one exception,
I didn't know how to banish your thoughts
through the doors of oblivion.
I could never unlearn to forget
the taste of your breath mixed with mines
the unpararell shyness of your lips
when they first met mines.

The heart is a rythm labyrinth
that pulses at it's own beatlike a nostalgic classic song
I can never pull the right strings
or play the right chords
that's why I cut them loose
and cross my fingers and hope
they will forever be gone one day
but they come back like stars at night
lost in the ashes of an old cuban cigar
with one look of your face
whenever or whereever our clandestine encounters
happen to take place.

Just listen to the song my heart plays
the renaissance of our memories
abount like ants in the hay
the unmistakable charm of your eyes
sliced at the corners
eyes without precedence or decadence
eyes that ceaced belonging to you
and became mines the moment
my naive heart decided to own them.

In my youth I wanted to be a baseball player
become a famous writer
see the world and do it all
but none of it will ever matter
because I never learned to exorcised
the demon of your love.

D-Girl    
 
Night is nothing but a shot
that I drink by myself
between the four walls
of my anxiety
as I contemplate nostalgic eyes
next to a dim lamp
becoming a laminated passage
to my dreams, to my solitude.

Like the dreams I always longed for
maybe if I had held her tighter
kissed her longer
then perhaps,
perhaps I wouldn't had lost her.

Say goodnight now
and don't forget to count your blessings
even if she was the only one
to ever love you for who you are
and realize how lucky you were
to have even met her
even if you never see her again.

She used to fall asleep in my arms
tied to my hips close to my lips
as if searching for a kiss in the dark.


I used to feel her breathe
during the course of the night
while we drifted apart
like two shipwrecked sailors lost at sea
but when the morning came
we would use the sunlight as a compass
to find each other again.                          
                                    
But I'll always have her puppy eyes
staring back without blinking
or even thinking
just how much I've missed her
along with her nomadic kisses.

Long gone her mementos
that have disappeared in a vault
along with the ashes of this love
and a bill from a place I have never been
the tattoo on her calves,
her pouty lips
my D-girl you could never see
that even if you never came to be
the girl of my dreams
you always were
and always will be.

Blah.

Kindred Spirit
(Ode an angel)

Your anatomy is an atom in it's purest form
if I am your moon you are my sun,
unequivocally you are my all.

The sole of you feet
drag sand from other beaches
I am the the owner of an amputated
spirit that you mend with broken kisses.

My kindred spirit.

Idealistically,
the being made from the same mold
when I contemplate you visually
leaves no doubt in my soul.

Physically, lyrically,
metaphorically speaking.
The Caribbean reflects on your face
when sun hits it
giving your Cinnamon complexion
a whole new meaning.

My kindred love.

I am humbled to you have you whole
and you are an angel sans the halo
and your smile makes God himself blush.

You are definitely not of this world
and warmth of your body surpasses
that of the Equator
when I am your scorching fire
you are my log.

My kindred soul.

Your heart is bigger than everything that is
and I would gladly spend
the rest of my life in your lips
undoubtedly, mathematically
an infinity will be it.

Because you are the cure
to my incurable illness
everything that I wanted,
my Earth, my Sun, my all
my kindred spirit.

You can’t have her eyes
because they still look for me
in the darkest of nights
when you hold her tight
she still feels me breathe
because your breathing is obsolete
and doesn't mean much
in the grand scheme of things.

You can't have her strength
because I gave that to her
you can't have her breath
because I took that away
but you can always have her body
that has become an empty shell
because she is not there
because she still sleeps with me
bundled up in between
my solitude and I.

You can have her dry lips
their moisture stayed on mines
you can have her complacent smile
because you never knew the one
that's genuinely warm and affectionate
the one that I still own
the one that belongs to us.

From those star-lit nights
hundreds of moons ago
to the gray Sunday afternoons
spent underneath our skins
when it was just the two of us
and a pint of ice cream
where all the love in the world could fit
and still have plenty of room for more.

You can't have her nose
because it's still tattered with my kisses
and my essence will remain in her lungs
as long as there is air in them
as long as she walks the earth
her lips will never know once more
what is the meaning of true love
unless they meet mines again
at the door of wishful dreaming
where the sky shakes
and our heaven breaks
shared by the two of us.

You can't have her ears
because it's the color of my voice
she would always rather hear regardless
of the pain it's coated on.
So tell me now if you must know
the truth of the matter if nothing else
who is with that person with you
if she's not even with herself?

Who is that person patiently sighing
ultimately packing her bags?
I'll tell you who they belong to:
the one you can't have.