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Monthly Archives: September 2014

(collaboration with the amazing, talented Katrina Blanco, follow her at twitter.com/xitscomplicated)

It is the feeling that I’ve lost so many chances of which I was not quite given that hurts me the most. It rests on my chest and if only time were on my side, I would have watched you fall in love with me than with somebody else. You’ve given me quite a lot of pain, instead of patience. You promised not to hurt, but maybe when you were speaking, you had your volume on mute and your mind, closed. I never meant to fall this hard. I wanted to be someone still capable of standing strong even without a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold on to. I thought maybe you could prove me wrong- that being strong wasn’t all that important, because I had you.

But I didn’t have you – I never really had you. I had your hand, and your eyes, and your smile, but I never had you. I had your body but your soul was elsewhere. I had your chest to lay on but your heart never beat for me. You showed me that I’m not someone capable of standing strong without a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold on to. You became my lifeline, and I was so blinded by how much I could breathe with you that I didn’t realize how contaminated the air you exhaled was.

I accepted it. Breathing bad air was better than not breathing at all – but little by little you have damaged my lungs and they have started to close in on my heart and now instead of being able to breathe, I feel suffocated and choked. I am drowning in the love you have refused to return to me.

If you cut my body in half, you’ll only find pieces of your heart floating through my blood stream and the comfort I used to find in your words written on my ribcages and somehow, although you’re dead to me, I still feel your fingers latched on to my spine. You’ve damaged and disposed the little forever I had planned out for us and there is not a drop of remorse in your pockets. I cough out the ashes you made of me and try to let in every bit of sunlight there is, to shut the cracks of my broken lungs and maybe, when I start breathing again, I’ll remind myself that not every boy acts like you.

Not every boy acts like you, and there will never be another you in my life. The good outweighed the bad for quite a while but I have reached my breaking point – I am done sacrificing who I am to get your attention. I love you. I am so in love with you, but just because I am incapable of being strong doesn’t mean I am not a good swimmer. The oceans of you have gotten me gasping for air, and for awhile there drowning actually felt good – but the current is growing stronger and I am becoming more determined to swim through your worst waves. I refuse to sink. I refuse to sink in a body of water as shallow as your soul.

It is the feeling of losing chances and realizing they were never there to begin. The oceans seem calming, when standing with your feet anchored to the shore, but what is underneath the waves tell a whole different story. Our love was based on fabrications and false hopes, I let my dreams take place of what reality held. You still rest on my chest, I have to admit; but it kills me so much that if only fate, not time, were on our side, I would have watched you fall in love with me than with somebody else. I miss you so much (but you don’t need to know that).

You don’t need to know that I will continue to miss you for a long time, because if I told you, your oceans would swallow me whole again. I am okay. My chest is still heaving and sometimes I am still gasping for air but I am okay, and I do not see you anywhere near me to hold me steady. I was wrong about you all along, you weren’t meant to put my pieces back together. You were meant to break me even better; and I was wrong about myself. I am capable of being strong without a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold. You dragged me down for far too long and I finally stood up for myself, and I am not the slightest bit sorry. So here is my goodbye, my one last “I love you”. I love you. I loved you, but I love myself too, and I have decided now that being able to breathe and being able to live and being able to be happy is so much better than being with you.

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(poem collaboration with the incredibly talented Matthew Delgado, matheyhue.wordpress.com)

This is an open letter to anyone who has the audacity to try to love her half as much as I did.  I would like to apologize in advance for all the resentment and umbrage this note might give you because you need to completely understand that you are in love with a girl whose pink bubblegum lips were previously reserved for mine, a girl with soft hands and a sweet voice who’s i love you‘s were solely set aside for me. And if you see that any of my anger seeps into the cracks of my cracked lips and my boiled blood on the sleeves of your vest, forgive me.

Forgive me because I am still in love with her. It’s as simple as that. I am in love with the way her hair cascades down to her halo and gracefully brushes her shoulder blades- those shoulder blades; don’t you think that they resemble an angel’s growing wings? Because that is what she is- an angel in the making. I am in love with the way her eyes capture the twilight rays of the sun and the way they shine like daybreak. I am in love with the way her voice tickles my earlobes; every word she says is a musical note, every sentence, a melody and every i love you is a requiem for me. I am in love with the way her skin pulsates under mine, our warmth radiating from us- we are the summer sun, were the summer sun, but I am still in love with her. She is still my present tense. And I was hoping, my future. But before I commend your bravery and courage into going this far with her, let me point out to you that I have never been one to walk away, so believe me, there are no signs of holes in my shoes or tracks of my footprints on the ground. Remember that I will love her longer than you ever will.

This was not supposed to be a letter of threat. But lately, that’s all that’s rolling out of my tongue. It’s not that I hate you, I just don’t want to be friends. My heart is in a battle with my head, my knuckles bruising my gut. You see, I lived with a hole buried down my chest ever since she told me about you. And I just want you to know that every time you kiss her, my lips were there first; every time you try to wrap your arms around her, it was my body that fit hers like a puzzle before yours; and every time you hold her hand, mine filled those spaces long before yours came into the picture. But now, it’s your name that she whispers at dawn and your shoulder that she cries on, so I hope that you know what you are getting yourself into. She’s not like other girls, trust me. When she’s angry at you and yells ‘I hate you’, what she really means is that she loves you so much it hurts her-and don’t walk away, hug her and whisper in her ear ‘I love you too’ because it will stop her from crying. She’s allergic to flowers, remember that, and she hates chocolates so give her handwritten letters on Valentine’s Day – or every day for that matter. Don’t put on too much cologne and remember to send her good morning texts. When you go on dates, don’t ask her what she wants to do – plan everything ahead of time. She likes surprises. Read the books that she tells you to read and watch the movies she tells you to watch. Never fall asleep when you’re texting her and midnight calls are expected every Saturday.

Tell her how you really feel; don’t try to be the man society expects you to be, be the man she needs. Tell her ‘I love you’ when she needs it the most or when she expects it the least.  And most of all, make her happy. You might even succeed at it, more than I hoped I would. If you ever find  yourself kissing her to sleep, keep on going until her eyelids fall and her breathing becomes silent and steady.

This is an open letter to anyone who has the audacity to love her half as much as I did. I don’t know your name, but please, please be good to her.