Ramon Loyola
Familiaryour hands feel familiar
they are renegade tanks of warmth charging through layers of hair shooting pinpricks of invisible blood through epidermis and veins (i only meant to say hello to wish you well on your way but) your hands feel familiar i can’t make up my mind now if i should make them go away or make them want to stay or let my own go astray My Heart is a Rejection Junkiemy heart is a rejection junkie.
it has craved for love since it started beating its rhythms. yet the advance taken towards that need never made it all the way to the deepest chambers. my heart has failed to leave a mark on stone so when it looks back after years gone, it can say aloud it had beaten faster than a beloved one could. but my heart is a rejection junkie and whatever passes through it leaves its halls with the reality that it only throbs for a bruising taste of solicited affection and unrequited love. so, i say, with aplomb and conviction, who needs a foolish heart when i’ve got one that bullies me to solitude and destined refusal? Preludehis hand sweeps over
scaly, coarse knuckles. he doesn’t mind, doesn’t care. he touches, provokes, the sweetening void. i don’t mind, don’t care. he’s the one holding. i’m the one falling. |
Atoms, Heartswe are burning particles
the trillion pins of a flame offsprings of the sun the gods of lightning colliding, conjoining we explode like the stars to form black sky galaxy and endless space that fills up with our atoms molecules and bursting quarks the way your love fills the way your heart fulfills Dandelions and Daisiesi remember you picking it up by the roadside.
you said it was for me and then you smiled. it was a dandelion that glowed yellow in the sun. i knew you saw me cringe momentarily at the sight because you knew i liked daisies instead. but you smiled anyway and put out your hand. i saw how it made you happy to see my eyes dance, how the world seemed rampant in its colorful wildness and how the simplest token, a flower, could bind us. i remember you touching my cheek tenderly, telling me that daisies were for girls and pansies. and, yet, i knew all at once that you’d love me anyway. |