stories to tell

 I don’t like you anymore. But every time I think of you my mind blanks out on everything else.  I always think of you.  I like you still. But whenever I hear you the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like soldiers after reverie.  I hear you sing  even in my dreams.  You never liked me. But the laughter and camaraderie were warmth for those lonely days.  You were always a little by yourself.  You liked me. But only on ways that meant we could always keep a distance.  You are now so far away that oceans drown our voices. 

 hay alguien que verderamente me extrañaria? si mi corazon dejara de latir, que alma sentiria tristeza por el silencio? si no existiera un mas respiro en mis pulmones, habria un corazon esperando mi oxigeno? [el silencio es enorme en esta habitacion, oscura y callada]

 I will miss this place. In this corner by the pine tree I feel secluded from the passersby. The lake breeze feels like a cozy blanket, not hot or cold but just right. The rustling of the nearby bushes lead me to ponder whether it’s birds or bunnies or just the wind dancing with the leaves.  Dancing how I dreamt of dancing with you. With out bodies close and moving filled with whimsy and fun. A smile on both of our faces as we step a little off beat.  But it was a dream I had while sitting in this spot. A dream that was just as dumb as hoping for world peace. As I sit here I keep thinking I will miss this place. It brings me peace and joy still. The people canoeing exist in a bubble floating away with what I can only imagine is effervescent happiness. Or pure zen.  But I feel the tug of the next space. I am finished here and all my dreams are vanishing as I wake up to my depleted existence. I’ve done it all I feel. I’ve been happy, sad, in love, heartbroken. I’ve lea...