LatinosUSA

After Nadia, Before Myself

Darkness, sun-etched,
evergreens swayed,
pine scent wafted
behind the mountain.
Nadia rode her high horse,
tied me in knots.

I was where I was,
a puddle of myself,
stepped on, forgotten,
our photos—shards.

A noose, appealing,
a stale attic, unforgiving,
a step stool—I took it back,
a short drop,
days alone sold me short,
a long way back,
I lost the taste for stiff drink,
I was the best version of myself.
Nadia could like it, or I’d kick her
out of my dreams.

I learned giving up,
didn’t change
the soap in my mouth,
wouldn’t wash bad intentions,
couldn’t spit out my pride.
She returned, wondering
what I did with my sunken self.

I was the person she fell for,
nothing more.
Confident in my flaws,
comfortable alone,
loving me for me,
happy with Nadia.

~~

Harboring More: The Night We Told the Truth

Smoke mingled with the dim lights.
Hip hop spilled through the ceiling speakers.
A neon OPEN sign glowed in the window.
A dark canopy covered the sky,
stars poking through.

Lydia and I sipped dark beer,
sorted nuts between us,
while a TV played basketball.
We made light of the single life.
Heads close,
people spoke from their lungs
after strong drink.

We were secret crushes,
in different circles,
trapped in the same thoughts,
harboring more than a crush.

“How would she look?” Lydia asked, sipping.
“That game again?” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Go on,” she said, grinning.
“I’d help her change her tire.”
“Tell me more.” She sipped, shifted.
“I’d change her tire,” I said.
Lydia narrowed one eye.
“She’d fall for you?”
“We’d hit it off.”
“That’s too easy,” she said.
I laughed. “It’s hard.”
“What would she look like?”

I smoked, flicked my ash.
“Her red hair would fall over her neck,
her freckles would hide on her cheeks.
She’d be just my height—maybe taller.”

Lydia had an inch on me.

She chuckled,
finished her beer.

“She’d trust me despite
her doubts.
We’d share dark humor,
regret nothing,
grow with every kiss,
dread a day apart,
hike mountain trails,
fall for trust,
outgrow old lust.”
She touched her chest.
“You’re—”
“Describing you,” I told Lydia.
“And I’m describing you.”
She shed a tear
and gained a kiss.