Tag Archives: pretend

i could

i could implore you with certainty,
dream on a dream of reality
could be a doll de porcelana
in the whites of your eyes.

i could pretend my uncertainty
was not acerca de ti
but rather a circle you see
in the mud of my eyes. 




*de porcelana –made of china / porcelain
*acerca de ti –about you
*podía. si. – i could have. yes.


88. soon, soon

yes, you are right, i should like to hide my head in the sand and pretend all that darkness is nothing but light shining through a filter tinted the colour of night. i should pretend last night never happened, i should pretend i am content here by your side in the leafy undergrowth of life where all i see are roots uprooted, dying in the sun. and would you blame me?

i could not sleep last night, thinking of the shining lights enveloping you, pillow over my head to drown out hurt. i wondered if i ought to watch a film, but that would be defeat. no, i would lay here and count your wrongs, my wrongs, the cracks in the ceiling of our hearts, thoughts, lives.
soon, soon, the artery would rupture and drown out the pain.
soon, soon.

i knew i couldn’t cut myself. what with? a knife? i could almost hear you saying don’t be silly in that tone of yours. and pills, what good would it do? only that i may die without salvation, without the knowledge of how to cling to love by the skin of your fingertips. or maybe i know that already.

and i can’t live with all that poison, not even just for tonight. i would fight but my limbs have gone to sleep and i am faced with a picture of you in the club, music pounding, drinks flowing, girls dancing.
and i realise i can’t say that there is anything missing. there is not.

85. cherry soda loves

there was a line in streetcar named desire that i remember. it said it’s touching to notice them making their first discovery of love! As if nobody had ever known it before.  it resonates, for now the time has come for the bud to be broken and flowers to bloom in the late-spring night air.

the risk is nothing. nothing, really. there are only the long sprawling afternoons this side of summer, when paper is scrunched up into tiny little balls and burnt with a magnifying glass or matches. whichever, the result is all that matters. words are nothing: this air requires action! 
and there are trees, so beautiful this time of year. they remind me of walking to school in the summer and inhaling the scent of apple tree blossom with T. those were the days, eh?

but now, no now, those buds will open and blossom will scatter into the hands of a handsome young man that we choose. for me, this sweltering summer, it’ll be you. and, god willing (an expression i borrowed from an altogether more believing friend of mine), next summer also. for T (if we were boys, she’d be a brother from another mother) it will be someone else. Her new beau (a rather lovely Tenessee expression!). her very first. amazing stength and will and beauty.

so here we are, and isn’t it queer to think we shall be here always? in the arms of another, in the throes of spring, the coming summer alighting hopes in every single one of us, as if petards were thrown at the pavement before us, at our feet, at our willing young hearts?

and we can’t help this feeling hopeful. and we can’t pretend we didn’t want this life.
so every year, like clockwork, we will be discoving those cherry soda loves and shedding blossom in each other’s arms.

fairytale innuendo

i’ll kiss it better
before you know you’re hurt

i won’t be curt 

i won’t pretend
that all those dreams are any more than
liquor on my lips
flour on my fingertips

there’s nothing a pinch of salt can’t cure

please be secure:
i’m doing all i can.


and this love is amazing. the things i say are stupid sometimes or even downright crude. those fantasies are nothing more than a fairytale innuendo.
know that.

31. my secrets in the buttons of your shirt

i know i went cold on you today, my bared torso immobile. i couldn’t pretend that i could stand being so vulnerable, like soft white putty in your hands.

i wanted to scream until my lungs ruptured because seeing the tables turning made me dizzy with fear.
a fear of conclusion.
and it’s irrational, being so scared that you will depart, leaving only a purplish shadow of your foreign kisses lingering on my neck. 
it’s stupid even, because you waited a lifetime for this, whispering sweet nothings in my ear all day, reassurances of your being mine, promises rising up from the heat of want, passion, longing, colouring the humid air scarlet.

but sometimes, when you close the door as you leave, it seems we are parting forever, my secrets in the buttons of your shirt, my scent lodged in the tips of your hair, my love clinging to your need like a phython going in for the kill.

so, forgive me my weakness, my inability to be promiscuous, my pain at forgetting how i was and my lack of hope for the future.
and i know if i was to say this to you, you’d shush me, so maybe you do love me after all.

and maybe one day i’ll need to know the truth about how you feel, but for now it’s enough to just hear you saying those three words.

it’s enough.