Buscando

Today I felt.
A smooth,
numb,
silence.
A loneliness of sorts.
And I ask of the Unknown:
Is it you?
And I hope you miss me.

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Mentiras

Tell me something real.
Tell me something that matters.
Tell me that there are more stars than there are bad men,
and that in this place at this time,
there are fewer bad men than there are freckles on my skin.
Tell me that my world will change
and that my life will change with it,
and that the fight in me will resolve into peace.
Tell me that I’m real.
Tell me that I matter.

Enano

There’s a poem in me today; I know it. There’s a poem about a smile which makes my chest ache and a corpse somewhere that barely resembles a body and a loss that I’ll never truly know. 

There’s a poem in me about a man that scares me and a nervous response that I regret each time it forces my face into a smile.

There are novels in me about lives unlived and restless staring at a blank sheet of paper as the stories fight amongst each other instead of preserving their selves.

There are worlds in me that you’ll never know and souls that I will never touch and lovers that will never meet without me. 

And yet I file away at the edges of the days until they are dull and blunt.

Curiosa

The stranger in the mirror wears my clothes,
although they’re tighter on her.
My diamond hangs round her neck.
She has different eyes:
Soft grey; a touch of storm.
Clear and deep;
Their murky film washed away.
She told me her name once,
and I laughed.
It didn’t fit anymore.
The sadness tapers off,
and the stranger
is stranger still.