Hitting Bottom

At first,

it felt marvelous. 

The way the salty air filled my nostrils and brushed my hair,

the melody of the sirens calling me in.

To be drowned by the sand and your hand reaching for me.

The deep darkness.

But oh wait! No.

There were stars, 

they looked at me.

And they stared at my soul,

like your eyes.

You reached for the bottom of the ocean,

but it’s currents prevented you from following.

But oh! You didn’t give up.

I need you,

don’t give up.

I was there drowning,

the weight of the world anchoring me into the never-ending wan,

the crystal clear crowding my lungs.

I got a glimpse of the empyrean. 

But it wasn’t what I desired,

to be there,

without a last glance of your sienna eyes,

without a last stroke from your rugged hands,

with a taste from your altruistic lips.

A rage stormed in my matter.

I didn’t wanted to be submerged into oblivion,

to have my thoughts suffocated and my heart violated,

to put down the butterflies that have been living in my stomach for so long.

The thought of my voice being muffle by briny bubbles

made me aware that they’ve been wanting to come home,

to burst out of my jaw and finally land on your blossom lips.

And suddenly,

it didn’t felt marvelous.

So I reached for your hand

and you pulled me out from delusion

and the butterflies were finally home.

Because to have you was so much better than knocking on deaths door. 

Hitting Bottom

My Condolences

My condolences,

I feel what you don’t feel

for your heart has died,

and your soul has turned dark

 

My condolences,

for I opened your windows

hoping for life, shocked

shouldn’t have stared at them waxed eyes

 

My condolences,

I have felt your royal skin,

for those frigid hands

will never feel what I feel

 

My condolences,

for your face has no smile

and with sore eyes

my wet lips kissed you goodbye

My Condolences

Sweet Dreams

I am aware of my lonelyness,

there is no need for a reminder.

It is stuck in my head,

in my guts,

in my eyes,

in my chest,

even under my nails.


I don’t mind being lonely,

except,

that I do. 

I do mind the emptyness,

the hollow inside.

Inside my hands,

inside my hair,

even in my knees.


Nothing,

and everything.

Bare tears,

cheeks stretching upward.

I can still feel it,

the sweet dream,

of nonexistence lips.

Sweet Dreams

An Act of Boldness

How can I tell her that I like her?

How can I tell him that I like him?

That the sole action of looking at his smile makes me smile.

Her smile.

I look for myself in her mind, but I’m scared that I might not find me.

He is always in my mind.

I know the kindness in his eyes.

Her eyes.

He is a character in my book, but I don’t know the language.

I want to learn her language.

I occasionally run into him.

We share polite hello’s on our fugitive encounters.

Hello.

I gain warm courage.

I stare, warming.

Her bewithching gaze, would you stay and chat?

I stay.

We stumble on heart-to-heart, yet, we linger.

I pour my heart, and yet, he lingers.

Now.

Now.

I know her, but oh!, how can I tell her that I like her?

I know him, but oh!, how can I tell him that I like him?

I just need an act of boldness.

Risk it all, no reasoning.

I like you.

I like you.

An Act of Boldness

Invisible

There SHE is. I enter the room and my eyes just lock with hers, just for a second. Today she has her nose in a new, old book. She reads fast. I can see her eyes moving, but most of the time they don’t look at my way, they just go zig-zagging through the lonly pages that she reads, a Starbucks coffe in her right hand, warming. I thought that maybe I should talk to her, say a “hello” or something about what she’s reading, but her eyes never leave the yellow pages of that old book. She has her legs crossed and when she shifts to change her position for a second, just for a second, she looks at my direction, caughts me staring at her and smiles. God, her smile. And those beautiful eyes. I should go there and make my move, okay I will. Better say something instead of being invisible…

 image  not mine There HE is. He enters the room and the first thing I do is look at his eyes. Our stare locks, just for a second. And for that second I go back to my reading, but I can’t concentrate, so I just keep my eyes on my book and make like I’m reading, moving my eyes too fast. I think of my Starbucks coffe on my right hand, warming. I think that he’s staring, but my eyes never leave my book, it must be my mind playing with my heart, because the girl with the book is never notice and maybe he’s just looking at what I’m reading. The chair feels uncomfortable and I shift my position and in that second I steal a moment to look at him and he’s staring, so I just smile and I feel him smiling. God, his smile. And his eyes. Shit, he’s standing up and going to my direction. Well, better say something instead of being invisible…

Invisible