perspectivas

aromas, sensaciones y recuerdos toman otro punto de vista

Emotions

Downcast face,
paper mâché smile,
apple slice eyes
holding back tears.

Creases on their faces mark
faux emotions,
the eyeliner smudged
over rosy cheeks and outstretched fingers,
like marionette dolls.

Ghosts

In my right hand
I clutch the phone,
my eyes squint at the font,
at my words;
The words that tumble,
rise, crest, fall
from my ample fingertips.
They cloud the screen
like a storm.

Perhaps I wrote too much.
Maybe I'm being silly.
I think our relationship
is ending.
I think you don't love me.
I think I'm being needy.
I think, I think, I think…

Tonight,
as I lay on that hard bed
in my semi- lit room,
it is the weight that roots
into the tightly knit crevices
of the knot in my throat
that makes my chest ache,
and it is the blistering fire
that spreads through my heart
with shaking wings,
making me wait for you to speak,
that makes my eyes stay open.

But when I stare at my
"I love you"
and your automated answer:
"Read 12:32",
I close my eyes
in silent defeat.