Isn’t this the age
When we have
A lot of plants,
A bunch of plans
Little money
and even less time?

Sometimes with watery eyes,
Sometimes with contained sighs,
Sometimes with deceitful what-ifs,

Sometimes in late shifts,
Sometimes in mood swings,
Sometimes in life’s sweet plot-twists,

but always—always—
thinking of you.

Deep in the middle
of the Irish midlands,
my essence is all over.

You’d put one foot inside
and say I haven’t changed—
hoarding sentimental knick-knacks,
all valueless, all lovely,
all me.

You’d put one foot inside,
and say I haven’t changed—
house like a heart: So cozy, so warm,
all irrelevant, all lonely,
all me.

You found your way into my mind.
Now I randomly text you
at 2 am.
And you are okay with that,
slowly melting my stance.
You’re dangerously getting closer
To my heart.

De habitación en habitación va,
Inestable, ambiguo, vacío.
Sin alma, sin sed,
sin errar, sin perder
¿Qué queda en su insaciable piel?
No lo sé
Poco menos de un hombre,
Tal vez

Our laughter echoed in the forest.
Chill wind tangling my hair.
Good insulation in my chest.  
Knowing glances.
Someone who cares.
Such a brief moment—
In the air, fog mixed with fate.
Humans are social animals.
Today I was reminded,
—in the sweetest of ways.

A formidable adversary
An even better rattle
In the anniversary of our last
soul-drowning battle

Long gone, every day further
My dearest enemy
no one got the glory
I’d surrender, but war is over.

my mind just was
submerged in that daydream
Romance is
An illusion of a team
Reality would eventually hit
no scenario less fancied than this
Not thought of as devotee,
but as a rival I was seen.

Like knocking on a door
Of a house in ruins
You can come,
But not a soul will let you in
There’s nothing here for you
There hasn’t, a long time since.

At the edge of your sheets
I take off my sweater;
my sorrows and earrings
get stuck in it.

They're both still there,
under your bed.
It's no problem if,
with kisses, you drain me.

But stay close
to the erratic rhythm
of my heartbeats

I remember
every one of your lovely whispers
when you thought I was dreaming
My mind, my hair, my nose
I was perfect, every bit. To you.

You, protecting me at all costs
I couldn’t bare such tender
I radiated all the love you gave me
Sad it was never permanent

I guess it was, sort of — dramatic
Now, thinking about it
It just resembles the beginning—
Let me put it this way:
If we hadn’t collide,
—you and I—
Our universes
wouldn’t be complete.

I’d love a cheat day
In my calendar—
Let my years-patched dignity,
For a single day,
be torn again.

I wish I could tell you
I wrote a poem for you—
A cheesy gift
for your thirtieth—
I know.

You are still breathing.
Yet I pin to my chest
A neat, felt
black ribbon—
To commemorate
The aching

My brain's cache memory clears itself
From time to time

So everyone, everything, disappears.
—Except you

Somehow your stupid malware,
Some sort of trojan virus
‘ILOVEYOU.exe’
Got in.
I opened it. Infected me.

I shouldn’t have trusted.
Heart security Breach.
Antivirus on.
Guard back up.

Like a limb tore
from a body
sinew and bone,
Souls once entwined
Wrenched apart—
Only left behind,
The phantom reflex,
The hollow ache,
Of what they were,
Of what once was.

I am aware,
That you are not.
That this pain, my pain,
Is not yours.

Never good
Or just not good enough
There was something to
Your eyes, in me,
never worth to be fond of.
I wonder why she was,
while I was not,
In a rare case where a ghost
defeats real flesh
Real lust.

Me, with real flaws
And real love, and really,
Really hurt
By the waltz of the past
You made me dance
Till my feet bled,
And my body ached,
And my soul was broken,
And my dignity.. left.

But I’m aware,
That you are certainly not
that this pain, my pain
Will never be yours.

I remember the last time I walked to your house,
in my headphones, a song by the cure
‘The cure’.. A bit ironic, I thought
Cause I was so sick
So, so, sick,
of loving
you.

Am I a temporary guest in your dreams?
Would you remember the way that I speak?

Would my personality be an ornamental feature to your future party stories?

Would I be a chapter in the terrible draft of the book of your life? Maybe just a page? A line?

Was my staying always conditioned?
Did I have an expiration date?

Soon I’ll be home;
time will move again.
My heart will thaw,
Beating outside the frost.

Preserving its warmth,
I carefully packed its pulse—

Kept in frozen brief moments:
Three a.m., laughing in the stairwell
Floor-dusting kitchen dancing,
Long gates and airport goodbyes,
The tightest hug I ever had—

Soon I’ll be home;
I will breathe again.
My heart will thaw,
beating outside the frost.

Summer is a promise—
Ice is melting;
with every tick
of the passing clock