Julia
I write because it is cheaper than feeling. You read as an apology for dragging my delusion under your feet.
We sing because it is less nauseating than blowing stardust at each other’s faces. But I keep wondering honey eyes, when did we lose our joy in flying kites?
I know, drunk again, drunk in these words that let me swim in that ocean that was our curiosity.
Do you remember that Boston kiss when we were surrounded by the fat squirrels and homeless rats? People looked at us as if our embrace resembled an eclipse, or perhaps a blasphemy. You were so beautiful and radiant like April, and I was so dull and aggravating as June.
What happened Bonita? At what time and day did we forget to be bold like kids? When did we become blind and unable to stare at each other like elderly lovers? When did we mutilate the laugh we created with our noses brushing one another?
Yes, my endless questions.Can’t help it. We became so good at moving on but never at forgiving the universe for keeping us together in the same memory.
