you told me I'm pretty in this sweater
soft basil green, 57 percent polyester
i feel something bubble and fester inside
every colour seems to remind me of you
and every song, and every second ticking on
i wish you could see every colour in me too
but my love isn't grown in flower meadows
it doesn't bloom when the rain pours down
it's heavy, it'll stick to every surface it can
and never washes off until it's just too much
my sweet little sweater, 57 percent polyester
and i gave more than what i really am to you
i want a kiss to just be a kiss and not more
a kiss that isn't a sealed scarlet envelope
inviting you to the rest of everything i am
i just want sweet gentle loving with you
After a while, things stop getting cute, not an enjoyable
Show.
Ups and downs, twist and turns, yet somehow I always came back to you and you to
Me.
No calls, no messages, no signal
That
Would at lest give me some idea if I still mattered.
You
Talk all big, saying things that I waited so long for you to say.
You tell me that you
Care.
But honestly? That's getting harder and harder to believe.
You're
Someone that I constantly thinking about.
Plaguing my head, invading my thoughts.
Small fantasies and dreams of us that slowly start
Breaking.
My heart, once mine, has started to betray
Me,
Going to war with my mind.
Telling me to forget you, to embrace you.
Two sides, ripping, tearing me
Apart,
All because of my feelings. My feelings of you.
I offered you my hand.
You reached out for it.
And stopped.
You couldn't take it.
Why is that?
Why is that I'm ready to give you my everything and you're not?
It's not fair.
I'm ready to sacrifice, to throw myself away for you.
Yet you won't do the same.
I'm starting to doubt.
Are you really worth it?
Because it sure doesn't seem like you are.
You've hurt me too much.
I've been ignored.
I've been given pain.
I'm now confused and depressed.
If I died right now.
At this very moment.
Would you care for me then?
A boy with a waistcoat on hand,
a girl with her workout grin
built a complicity
that taught us to love
the way one intuits to mold a vessel
or to use the innocence's edge
to make a chunk of it and
to shatter on it.
That was the first love
A pleasure for betraying us
as we would never do it again,
following the radio's dial
'til we awake one dawn with rancor
dubious against whom or what
That used to be the first love
A time where taking risks
Our parents bind a riband in the forehead
rivaling some type of blessing.
We smile as still smiles-
the Bolivian Football team's poster
covering a void in the dining room.
Nothing surprises in a first match.
At a fair time you recognize who wants more:
To win the ball and the right to win the ball,
To blow the candles while shredding your lungs,
To find gifts under the pine without a name and a claimer,
To date the girl who changed seats in class,
shifted school, moved out of town to finally remember you,
To drink the rum that someone left in the counter bar
thinking of you along the bum that watches his car,
To have fame in the hood of being who should not be
or having kicked that ball at a fair time.
The taciturn howl
to abandon your home.
The "last" pitch of
the thesis presentation,
against the broken mirror.
The shift on your accent
from every tripped up job.
The search for a familiar face,
reverted through the chai tea,
facing the boulevard or the grandma's sewing machine.
The fervent believe in love
like one who believes a speech
within the stomach's roar.
/forever always seemed to be such a long time. but since knowing you, there doesn't seem to be enough time at all./
you're the type of person
i want to write poems about
staying up till 4 am
thinking
of your kind words
and beautiful soul
but
you're also the type of person
i'd hate to hate
and i try not to get too attached
although it's much too late
The
moon
is
384 400 kms
away
but
somehow
you
seem
a
little
more
distant.
/the moon
and the sun
are love
and fear;
one fades
as the other
rises/
/just like me
and you.
we weren't
meant to meet;
too beautiful
to last,
you are the sunset,
and I am the
sunrise/