WE STILL BLEED

It was already late

when the clouds began to burn

and a wild wind destroyed the flowers.

The blue of the sky fell over me

and your face was all my heart

could see.

It was so late when my trembling

hands searched for the past and

found you eating sugar beneath

my skin.

It was so late.

Your complicated beautiful eyes

still gaze at me, eating my doubts,

piercing my night, blessing my poems

as I sit here and cry for my precious memories.

Your indefinite words still render me eternity.

I am lost without you. I am drowning in waters of awe

and passion.

Love is a maze of lilies where I forgot myself

when I knew all the questions.

You were my answer. You were my shield.

You were…You were…

With faith, with madness, I stepped outside,

I reached my arms toward you, I dreamt.

Now I try to observe unobservable mysteries

as I lay dying every single day, thinking of promises

and secrets, sewing my pieces in this momentary

quest for the future.

What is happiness?

I guess it slipped through my fingers.

Maybe I was happy. Was I? WAS I?

I DON’T KNOW.

I only feel this pain: real and intense,

natural and illogical when I read your words,

when I am blind, when I see your photos,

when I hate myself more.

The silky door is closed.

Something in me is a silent lake and you know my depths

and dangers as you cross your fields of sorrow, thinking

of me and tomorrow, lying to the stars, falling in your caustic

abyss of solitude and despair, missing my beauty and the flowers

I used to put in your hair.

And now it is too late. I can’t save our arms or the roses from the thorns.

The wounds are forever, the journey is over. We still bleed.

Karla Bardanza