Kidney lovers

I've been thinking and have decided that 

the next time I let a man in, 

I´ll be sure to store him in my kidney. 

Or maybe my appendix. 

Somewhere less vital than a heart, 

per se. 

I will make a home for him in some part of me I can live without 

in case it ever has to be removed, donated, cut off, 

if for example, it becomes ill 

or if He decides to leave.

I want him to feel welcome, 

but to remind him that he is a guest. 

If he get´s too comfortable, 

he might try to move into my brain, 

or even worse, 

into my memories, 

poetry, 

buildings, 

background noise,
motor skills,

bloodstream, 

autonomic reflexes.

This is too big of a risk. 

Absence leaves a stain like red wine on a white carpet. 

You can purge over and over again 

but a shadow always remains. 

On certain occasions, 

the only choice left is amputation. 

So yes, as pragmatic as this sounds. 

the next time I let a man in, 

I´ll be sure to store him in my kidney. 

Or maybe my appendix. 

Somewhere less vital than a heart.

Left Clavicles

I stroked a different boy's clavicle today.
His left one, to be exact.
And that touch, minuscule as it would seem,
filled me with unimaginable grief.

Thieve

As a native Mexican, I am aware that the socio-political situation in in my country is complex, to say the least. Your guard, like the flag, must always be raised high. Lock your doors, seal your windows, chain your bikes. Tip the man holding a bucket so he "watches your vehicle", even though everyone knows that the tip simply reduces the risk of him keying it. Keep an eye on your bag, stay skeptical. If you want to survive, don't pay too much attention to the men lurking at the darkest corners of the bar, or to the ones who smile too widely in broad daylight. Stay away from the city's perimeter, and off the roads after 2:00am. When you cross under a bridge, make sure you never look up. Make eye contact, but not too much. Maybe that was my mistake. The eye contact, that is. I looked at you for too long. I let you in.

Mexico is an insecure country, but I never expected to come home and find that everything I knew had changed. That everything was gone. Love is the most sinister kind of robbery there is. The worst part of getting a thieve is that after they clean you out, you will never get yourself back.

How to succeed in heartbreak

How to succeed in heartbreak without really trying:

First, do nothing
Become one with your couch
eating whole stack of Oreos like leaning towers of feelings
Watch Jane Austen adaptation until your eyes become raisins.

Talk to yourself, talk to yourself in the mirror,
on public transportation, in the middle of the fountain at the plaza.
Because, there are things you never got to say
And you don’t have to swallow them.

Kiss as many people as you need to get the stamp of his lips off of your brain
Go to museums; realize other things have history too…
Play hide and go seek with your REM cycles
You’re not sure which is worse to wake up from
The nightmare about your sides splitting open
or the dreams about him holding your jaw like it meant something to him.

You might as well tape your eyelids to your forehead
Because at least you can lie to yourself while you are awake.

Stay up until 3:00, or 3:30, 4:00...
Brew tea with the bags under your eyes.

Write, write until you’ve used every metaphor in your library
You start using the same one over and over
Because there’s only so many ways to describe being destroyed.

But once you get there, that’s just the foundation
Next, gather up all of the chinks in your chain
And fasten them together
Make chain mails, and write that bitch into battle
Take his name, the one that still hurts to say
And use it as a war cry,
then, actually cry,
because there is nothing shameful about clearing your eyes.

Do not pick yourself up.
Do not be okay,
Because heartbreak is not about being okay,
It’s about remembering that you were okay before.
It is about saying fuck okay.
It is about taking all your broken pieces and building yourself a castle
Because I don’t care who you are
You’re a goddamn queen.
It’s about saying, fuck this poem.

No one succeed at heartbreak.

But one day, I’ll cry myself a fountain of youth
Let’s go back to beginning.

I’m tired of self-help tips and friendly pick me ups
I drink a bottle, and bottles and bottles,
pretending their mouths belong to someone else,
But I’m done feeling sorry for myself.

Because why apologize for loving until you burst?
My capacity to feel needs no pardon.
My heart needs no mending.
I’m not broken
I’m just a little more,
explosive.

Natural Disasters

Natural disasters; Inevitable phenomenons that, despite their justified existence, cause a universal sense of loss. They are unpreventable, and tend to be given a name. "Tsunami" is not enough. "Hurricane" is not enough. "Man" is not enough. 

I was natural, 

you were the disaster. 

I was the thunder, 

the downpour, 

the meadow,

the rising sun.

You were the spectator. 

The tourist. 

The wanderer, 

who took a photo, 

put it in your pocket,

and walked away. 

But I've come to learn

that the sunset does't loose it's spectacular glow, 

just because you stop looking. 

El Futuro

"Me enojaré amor mío,
sin que sea por ti,
y compraré bombones
pero no para ti,
me pararé en la esquina
a la que no vendrás,
y diré las palabras que se dicen
y comeré las cosas que se comen
y soñaré las cosas que se sueñan
y sé muy bien que no estarás,
ni aquí adentro, la cárcel
donde aún te retengo,
ni allí fuera, este río de calles
y de puentes." - El Futuro (Julio Cortázar)

Si tú me olvidas

Quiero que sepas
una cosa.

Tú sabes cómo es esto:
si miro
la luna de cristal, la rama roja
del lento otoño en mi ventana,
si toco
junto al fuego
la impalpable ceniza
o el arrugado cuerpo de la leña,
todo me lleva a ti,
como si todo lo que existe,
aromas, luz, metales,
fueran pequeños barcos que navegan
hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan.

Ahora bien,
si poco a poco dejas de quererme
dejaré de quererte poco a poco.

Si de pronto
me olvidas
no me busques,
que ya te habré olvidado.

Si consideras largo y loco
el viento de banderas
que pasa por mi vida
y te decides
a dejarme a la orilla
del corazón en que tengo raíces,
piensa
que en ese día,
a esa hora
levantaré los brazos
y saldrán mis raíces
a buscar otra tierra.

Pero
si cada día,
cada hora
sientes que a mí estás destinada
con dulzura implacable.
Si cada día sube
una flor a tus labios a buscarme,
ay amor mío, ay mía,
en mí todo ese fuego se repite,
en mí nada se apaga ni se olvida,
mi amor se nutre de tu amor, amada,
y mientras vivas estará en tus brazos
sin salir de los míos.