skin of your tears
I've been filtering the dead skin you left behind on your pillow for the past two nights. Your scent is all but gone, a lone hair tangles itself on my fingers, the tear stains never dried. I will lay here with a view of a street that saw you drive off south as my prayers took off into the unforgiving night. I heard your voice cry out, I got up to look...nothing there but a pair of mismatched stiletto heels, one with a torn strap, the other with a scuff mark. I turned off the lights about three minutes passed one in the morning...next to me, your scent returned, to reclaim its layer of skin that fell off your shadow, leaving me alone with your tears, that take up your side of the bed.
You are one of my love stories.
Without looking, you entered my heart through the brush of your lips on mine, through each detailed fingertip caress, through the aura of scented orgasms, there you were. We didn't meet-we were in each other all along.
Somewhere between the shadows that walk during our sleep paralysis, there’s a song. It has no color, veiled like a procession of widows on their way to visit their handsome dead. It strums and strings along, never giving itself in absolution to sorrow…instead walking, and singing a new song of hope-a bright tune.
remember when she came home, jaundice was the first gold she wore? Remember when she sat up straight and laughed at the avocado that slipped from her gripless hands? Remember when she fell off the bed and Jesus, Mary and Joseph simultaneously had ringing in their ears? Remember when she ate a mango and loved long baths? Now she talks of school bullies and fairness, of lego worlds and doll clothing, less baths and more cuddles, candy and less broccoli, wanting a convertible and waiting for that next tooth to emerge. She’s seen fire, rain and hail…Luisita! “Daddy, can you make sure in the second grade they start calling me by my first name?”-sure thing Bellita, of course I will my love.
You worried of the scars. Asked that I close my eyes forever if I wanted to love you for just as long…scars that pierced through you like a falsetto. White lines that resembled rivers across the sky, contrails. It took lots of effort and many years of anguish to get them to be that perfect. When I arrived, I thought I could help heal them…I thought I was the one to mend and be that salve. The scars are now on me, now it’s your turn to close your eyes forever…give me a shot at this thing called love.