Poetry by Jesus Rodriguez
Writing About You
Here I am writing another poem about you.
Telling myself this will be the last time
I write about you.
But how can I when we are 3 feet apart from each other
Divided by this flat land of metal.
And I can’
t think of anything else to write about.
I try not to look up fearing,
I would get lost
between this great space of air and a sea of voices
And the smell of greasy fast-food occupy this playground
we both call helping us stay afloat.
You are watching the Superbowl while,
I write about this poem about open and random spaces.
Hoping I don’
t have to make another order
Who knew work could be so fun?
, this how I see us,
Just space where I’m a field of blooming flowers,
where you are like a cluster of storm clouds
t want to shower me with your raindrops
God, could I get any more cliché?
I miss the days when we were
just a reflection of hidden glances,
wanting to say something filling up this silences
that between us.
The echoes of you saying,
following me while
I’m trying to escape this cave,
I found myself lost in
trying to find you.
While inside myself
I want to sing an aria of,
I love you,
to an empty concert hall
a painful repeating melody that self-destructs like
a minefield in this war I call myself.
We already told each other the truth
about this space we both occupy within each other
But the truth was like a meteor shower creating a chasm of craters.
Only for us
or maybe just me to push you away
After I left
because my anger what like a field of hellfire
and you gave me space,
while you tried not drowned beneath the lake of your
t that I keep holding onto this space
I just think it’
s a work of some
Thinking how were brought back to each other again.
Now this the space between us is like the Sun and
Occupying these celestial heavens above us.
While placed in the same system of stars
only not to be close enough to touch.
Only to see each other when the sky rises and falls
at the same time.
Such a painful yet beautiful sight.
If only you could understand how
I see the space between us.
Then maybe you understand the pain
I’m going through too.
Maybe I just need to pick you up like a random daisy
found on a silent hill.
Plucking each petal until I finally tell myself.
He loves me not.
And then maybe letting you go and
the space around us would not hurt all that much.