Por Siempre

Photo by Barna Kovács on Unsplash

I want                                                you                                    to see me, fresh

where the sun
shivers quick, I want you to relay the sharp secrets you refuse to tell me and I want you to speak songs to my stomach.

I wanted you, terribly, and the bed revolts and aches from a ghost that has never slept in my spaces.

I miss you terribly, though, images of you are relegated to square-shaped screens, filmic pieces, and little flicks of wanting, oh bello, I want to know what fulls in your vast and capacious mind.

I’m sorry, I don’t sin right. I don’t know how to push down the desire that blooms and fears and waits, but baby I can’t wait in line for you if it’s a long one, though in dreams, I would.

Because that’s how I feel. It’s too big and too wicked and too heavy and too engulfing and too flattening and too repetitive and                                                please please please please

don’t ignore me,                                                                        gently.

I’m terrified I’ll walk through your door and see you on the other end,

grinning with dark beard and I’ll want you por siempre and I’m afraid I’ll be stuck with your

enormous, glorious thorn and maybe the problem is that has already happened.