Grateful for the angels
Who watch the street lights,
That watch me roam the streets past mid-night.
Looking for the ships that have long left the shores
Hoping that as I tip toe the hope
That love will trace me back
In the concept of the injuries
Where I over and over get hurt
And hope you will have pity on me
Going in circles and circles
Watch years fly away in the sky
Leaving me bare skin
Wishing that the truth would hurt less
As I run to measure the distance between us
Wondering if this is the nostalgia, I will tell kids
When all I do is cry in the toil of remembering.
I can’t keep writing you like this in poetry
Laying time flat and having my tongue recite you like Solfas
See, I have been too deep for too long to swim back
without being ruptured in the sea of loving you.
I am painfully struggling to learn
and relearn how to stop loving you.
Tired of being a metaphor!