manso

*

an almost made up poemstory

LET NOT YOUR RAGE OR MALICE DESTROY A LIFE
FOR INDEED HE WHO DOES NOT VALUE IT
DOES NOT HIMSELF DESERVE IT

- JM Renaud-

We met because my sister had terrible diarrhea

and you were sitting near the ICU with your girlfriend hugging you tight

you had the biggest eye bags, she had the tiniest shoulders, ah no, smallest (I mean)

One grey grey night, I sat on the tiled hospital floor pretending that I was in

an eskinita and was listening to the rain from the dark alleys.

You were sitting on a bench and we began exchanging numbers after

I made you laugh about a very nasty sexual joke.

That was the only time we were so close. We exchanged messages,

you told me you were so tired of your lover and you liked to attach

an all caps I AM TIRED I AM TIRED I AM TIRED.

I’d tell you the same very nasty sexual joke when we first met and you would

send me a (‘_’)

I never had the chance to tell you about me, about how I had to mingle

with people who made me feel tired and how I had to walk at night

alone because it was better off that way.

You called me once just to tell me that you love me like how

someone can love a person he does not touch.

I never replied a thing, not because I did not like you, it’s just

it was better off that way.

But after hours, I would tell you about your eye bags and that

nasty sexual joke in the hospital.

One time, we had the chance to meet when I visited my friend

three blocks away from your house. but it never happened (it was

better off that way. yes yes yes)

You had a new girl friend that time and at 11pm you would send me

words of how happy you were with her, how her hazelnut eyes

seduced you, how her long straight hair swirled around your fingers

on a lazy Sunday afternoon

and sometimes, you would send me I AM TIRED I AM TIRED

In 5 different text messages.

I told you to have faith in love, love your self more and let your self

go at times. You would send me (‘_’) and the words

I love you like how someone loves a person he does not touch

We have not met again and it was better off that way

because maybe, I could have just made you tired if I start to just be quiet and cry

on pillows and say “it’s really my fault, I understand you, sorry sorry…”

and maybe, you could have made me tired when you start to sit on the floor

and play with your rubik’s cube without minding the world and my new poem.

We have not met at all when you sliced your wrist.

I could have told you that nasty sexual joke.

.