i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it

The city was in front of me
No wait, behind me,
It’s everywhere
Circling the room in its vibrations
And I can’t help but wonder
If we are on stable ground

Lost my way in the storm of your body,
kissing your lips kept track of my steps
I noticed every line and curve of this mountain
made a map to help myself.

I looked around to find these eyes full of love,
and I did find them, befogged,
I found the very eyes that made me fall in love
looking at another person’s route.

I wasn’t the only one climbing your peaks
but that’s what you made me believe.

What a thunderous event, isn’t it?

“it isn’t what it seems to be”

you say? sure.
I have heard better lies
by the very thieves who came that night
who robbed me of my conscious mind,
blindfolded my eyes with believes
pushed me in a storm and made me leave
my childish thoughts about you,
about what I thought was love.

I made a map of your body
just to find my way
out of the forest where
trees grew
                   l i e s.


-no bitter fruit than truth