Beads

And the faces that floated in my dreams ceased to exist…they did so in my insomnia and I could finally rest. However, my peace did not last but a brief instant when I suddenly began to think you…to miss you…to hate you…

Without knowing, or caring, that my stars had become cold corpses that adorned the black of the night I let myself be guided by this loneliness and I made a pact of blood with her. In my aloneness I dragged your image across the garden of withered carnations and wept beads

Beads of blood, beads of sweat, beads of dew

The sun falls and the day dies, and the voice of dusk begins to narrate the events of my life: you left, you strayed from me, and I was, by chance, a witness of your goodbye. What’s worse is that, upon leaving, you took with you my thoughts, my winter; you clothe your soul with my clarity and you leave, you fly, you are washed ashore and with you go my bones, my heart, my strength and, above everything else: me.

I would sell the world, even though it is not mine, for my eyes to bathe in you, briefly, just briefly if I could. The impossibility is irrefutable and I’ve accepted defeat. I do, however, keep my words…those not whispered. Words you never heard were the only things you could not take. The irony is, though, that I would sell my soul, even though that also does not belong to me, just to whisper those words in your ear in vain hope that you would stay.

J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)

San Diego

11.23.09