This is not a love poem

This is a letter I'm too much of a wuss to send.

You're the reason I can write...again

Last night,

As you shed this impossible light

In the obscure and somber isolation of your bed

Billowing kisses over my forehead

Sensibly identifying every crevice of my all too familiar shape

the blades, the dents, my supple ass

which fits right between those strong hands

I know you felt what I felt

your eyes glazed over rooted into mine

It was that ONE kiss though

the one at the foot of your bed

that resonated a million words

Words of love, hate, anxious complexities, fear, sadness,

and disappointment for all things final

A bitter taste of realities too familiar

Would it be too much to ask- Why don't we just start over?

Can I scratch off the expiration date

Swallow the denial

of caring and wishing I didn't

of remembering and wishing I could forget

Dismiss the kisses, the midnight sex, the drinks,

the dances, the talks, the laughs

of all things good overshadowed by the bad

There was no better lie more honest than your truth

You're like no one I've ever met

and I apologize for believing you'd be my lucky #

I apologize for crying because you shredded my hope

and I'm a wreck

so I'll put the hazard signs up

Let's make sure no one else takes a turn

towards my fucked up bone of a soul

I'm desperately trying to let go

I'll leave you with that last kiss

Its easier to let go that way.

In saying nothing, I say it all.

Why does your lazy heart not keep up

with the beats in your kiss?

Maybe you should cut back the social masturbation

And try instead for a more intimate relationship

I promise its amazing to have one with someone other than yourself

And I thought a lot...last night

After a long drive home,

and the sleepless night laid agape on my back

Today, I walk in slow motion

I can only trick myself into believing I can move on for so long

You say I cry wolf, but I'm just trying to protect

my endlessly exposed wounds.

I feel as though they may never heal

with the constant lashing, tossing of false illusions.

Delusions of you and me

The ones stuck at the forefront,

doubled over between my eyes.

Even though I'm not at a loss for words,

I have no clue what to do next.

Let time do its thing...

perhaps I'll even regenerate my heart in the process.

perhaps you'll grow one.

-M. Peña