la luna

la luna le borró el nombre a tu querido aficionado debajo de sus suspiros. todo mientras el viento te distrajo. otra entrada mas en el diario de marisol. otro libro en la enciclopedia del corazón. la luna se burla de ti mientras se esconde por la noche, mientras te expulsa tus malditas inmundicias y te enseña a ti misma. la luna te entrega un espejo en el que vez a tu propia madre. incluso, te fijaste no en lo que pudo estar frente a ti sino lo que pudo ver sido una ilusión. tu linda luna te mata por dentro.

drifted

she knows, you have to know that. 

you must feel it in your bones and on your skin. 

you must sense it in her posture,

and in her eyes that weren't always as deep as they were today. 

you must feel the coldness of her skin that only gets colder at night, 

till she shakes and wakes you in your sleep. 

there's very little you can do to soothe her. 

now, you can live with the silence between two bodies, 

or you can let it go. 

so far away that it no longer feels like distance, 

but instead... non existence.

unsent

i found the letter i never sent you, neatly folded and sealed in an envelope with no address on it. i ripped it open and read the words as if seeing them for the very first time; six pages filled with thoughts, emotions, and scribbled-out ideas... i’m sorry i never sent it. i think it was more of a closure activity for me, more than anything. i do recognize those thoughts as my own, though i do not particularly feel i need to justify myself anymore. i don’t think you’ll ever see it.

 maybe i'll get an address next time.