Posts Tagged ‘Six sentences’

We’ll always have our poems

Darling, my saccharine darling; the short-lived euphoria I felt when we met extruded a poem or two that weakened your knees and made you vertiginous; we spent a few days waking up together and now you are in love.

Please don’t keep on saying you love me; that poor statement is so… abused.

Oh no, you furious lady, now you say you hate me; but, hate is so… impolite.

I never said I loved you, did I?

Even if I did, my dear naivetess… if you ever dare trust a poet – do not stop reading his work.

If you paid more attention, you would have known that I left you about two poems ago, my September darling; left you for good.

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Departure

The last time I was dying did not hurt this much; less pain resided inside of me back then.

Just before you die, all the sediments of pain raise and morph into a whirlwind which only intent is to leave you. That separation hurts even more than harboring the anguish, but this time I endure. After the agony of the detachment is over, the pain is gone.

If I could feel, I would rejoice. But, I can not; I am gone, too.

The Foreigner (a close encounter of the third kind)

The first question she popped out caught her new friend off guard; or… did it? She could not read people’s faces that well back then, especially not a face like his, but however he behaved or whatever he said would not have mattered that much; she had already decided that the only interesting person she saw since they came here will become her new friend.

“Why are you black?”

“Wow, that’s a good question; well, my mom was black and my dad was black; I guess that is why I turned out black, too…”

“I like you.”

A lady came nearly running all the way from the other side of the hotel lobby, murmured something even she herself did not understand, and then started dragging her daughter away from the tall guy who was waving back to the little girl whose eyes were turning into waterfalls.

A Perfect Crime

You said I was perfect for you; isn’t it amazing how you could feel that after knowing me for only an hour we’ve spent together in the moving car?

I talk a lot and I am not used to people actually listening, but you do; and I usually feel so lonely but no, not now when I am with you, isn’t that amazing?

No, I have no friends or family, no, I have no one; there are seldom days when I do not feel like the most miserable person on Earth, and here you came, being so kind and talking to me with such a genuine warmth in your voice.

Why are we stopping in the middle of the forest, did something break?

Is that a gun in your hand?

But, you said I was perfect…