Tag Archives: cuban american poet

You Will Always Have a Piece of My Heart

You Will Always Have a Piece of My Heart Poem (photo: Rolando Oliveira)

You Will Always Have a Piece of My Heart Poem (photo: Rolando Oliveira)

it was a sunday morning when we met.
the beach was tranquil, with sunlight sparkling
over the waves that washed the night away.

our hangovers cured by warm embraces
and passionate kisses that turned into
texts and dinners with decadent deserts.

communicating more with our bodies
than our words, exploring each other’s touch
and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

i miss snuggling up to your warm body
and telling you about my day while we
sat in the candlelight after your shift.

i still crave the way i felt with your legs
wrapped around me, your fingers running through
my hair, your lips gently grazing my neck.

i was close to falling in love with you.
i was happy when we were together
and a part of me will always want you.

but i couldn’t let you into my heart,
into the place that you deserved to be
cause my feelings for you terrified me.

and even though my life is lovely and
i’m ready to let someone in, i know
that i don’t deserve your heart anymore.

i just hope that you find these words one day
and realize that they are meant for you.
you will always have a piece of my heart
and i’ll always regret that sunday night.

For a Thousand Years to Come

For a Thousand Year To Come (photo: Alexandru Tudorache)

For a Thousand Year To Come (photo: Alexandru Tudorache)

we’ve weathered
a thousand years
of sun and rain

but the life we breathe
through our leaves
will not be enough
to sustain us

we can cry
turn a blind eye
or resign to the
eminent reality
that one day soon
we are going to die.

but on another planet
in a different time
i hope we meet as seeds
so that our flowers can bloom
under a new sun together
for a thousand years to come.

Wishing for Wings

Wishing for Wings (photo: Kelly Sikkema)

Wishing for Wings (photo: Kelly Sikkema)

beautiful bird
at arm’s length
i want to bring you close
to see where your purple ends
and indigo begins
but i know
that any move
will send you flying.

i’m awestruck
at your mercy
wondering if it can get any better
craving a closer look
terrified of scaring you away.

i’m immobile
wishing for wings
to fly away with you
into the wind
out to sea
to rise above
go beyond
and be free.

During This Aquamarine Twilight Poem (photo: Todd Desantis)

During This Aquamarine Twilight

that i went to sleep smiling
the night that we met.

that my feelings
and my fears
made me push you away.

that i hate to see you
with somebody else.

that i love my freedom
more than myself
though i’m not sure to what end.

what if that very freedom
is what led me to you?

what if the winds of the angry atlantic
helped my sails find your tranquil harbor
on the night that we met
not because i was lost
but because i had finally been found?

what if you’re what i’ve been looking for
but have been too stubborn to see?

is there any possibility
of a you and me
if i drop my anchor in your bay
during this aquamarine twilight?

could there be a we
to acquire, desire or aspire to be?

As Would Only Be Just (photo: Ben O'Sullivan)

As Would Only Be Just

the light shone bright
in an almost sinister way
through the windows that day.
i sat stoically at my usual table
in the middle of the crowded cafeteria
strategically seated
for what was about to go down.

as soon as i was sure
that no one was looking,
i quietly pulled out
the rusty box cutter
that i had snatched the night before
and placed it on the back of my seat
as we had discussed.

in no time at all
the blood that seconds prior
was running blue through your veins
was dripping down my back
in a river of crimson.

amidst the screams and the gasps
my instinct was to turn around
and put pressure on your neck
to stop all of the life
from gushing out of you.

i sat calmly in my chair instead,
with my eyes closed and my mouth shut
as we had discussed.

the reactions of those around us
to your premature departure
made all of the hair on my body
stand in pure terror.

then it finally occurred to me
that i may have made a mistake,
that i may have been responsible
for the warm red blood
that soaked my shirt and dripped down
to the grimy linoleum floor
that your body lay lifeless on.

but the decision wasn’t mine.
after all, it was your hand
that thrust the razor’s edge
into your throat
on that sunny afternoon
as we had discussed.

and now you’re gone
from this rotten place
and even though i can’t believe
you’re never coming back,
i’m glad you were able
to escape the way you did,
never wavering
in your affinity for theatricality.

i hope you’re happy now
my dearly departed friend
feeling the cool mountain air on your face
with a carton of cigarettes
and a bottle of single malt whiskey
as would only be just.