if i once loved you,
you are somewhere in the poems.
you were a word that belongs only to us.
you were lines with a rhythm as the tapping of you feet.
and if we trace back during one slow class,
you first made it on the last pages of my notebook,
as scribbles,
roughly resembling a sketch of the parallel creases
between you confused eyes as you check my paper,
while i stole you few glances.
back then, i did not mind the low scores because it meant more time for us to review.
then, using a faber castell ballpoint ink, you penned your position in my life,
like the thick and abundant strokes of red annotations on my answer sheet.
the same red i inked on my skin,
deeply so you can construe within.
it is as if you are flowing ever so naturally in my bloodstream.
you never seem to have truly departed my faculties of thought,
because i have always felt the same.
and my tongue remains a native in languages, words that translate to your name.
you are alive, very much so,
when i think, when i speak, when i write, time and time again,
you come to life.
so, yes my dear,
i know just where to find you.
if i once loved you, you are here.