PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

“Something Like Alvaro”

Jay and Courtney were the coolest and happiest couple in the whole town, everyone wanted to be just like them. They had been going out since Courtney was in middle school and didn’t plan on breaking up at any moment. Courtney, the captain of the cheerleader squad, who was 18, walked every morning with her cheerleader outfit through the hallways of Saint Joseph’s Academy as all the guys sweat and look at her from head to toe, “What a goodie” they all said. Jay, on the other hand, was this “bad” and “rough” guy, who wore leather jackets and rode a matte black Yamaha R6, he was 24 and had already graduated from college. Well everything was perfect from everyone’s point of view, except by the fact that Jay was the most jealous person there was. Courtney was the prettiest of them all and wasn’t allowed, by Jay’s commands, to talk to boys, though of course she did, she was tired of it.

It was already spring break, Courtney’s SENIOR spring break, and she planned on visiting her friend Lucia, who lived in Madrid, together with her sister Cecile. The Connor sisters were so excited, though Jay wasn’t, he was sure something bad would happen, he was mad, FURIOUS, he didn’t like what was going on. Well, he was going to go with his whole family to LA beach so that should do for the moment. Jay left for vacations before the Connor sisters did, so they went to the airport by taxi. As they climbed the stairs to the plane, they drank their Starbuck’s coffee happily and sang to The Killer’s “Mr. Brightside”. Courtney had met Lucia in a summer camp 5 years ago and hadn’t seen her since. Her excitement filled her with such grace, she just couldn’t keep herself from smiling the whole time. As they arrived to Madrid’s airport after a LONG airplane ride, there she was, Lucia standing with a sign that said “Connor Sisters”. Courtney and Cecile ran to Lucia and hugged her, they were so glad to see her. “Hola niñas vengan! Hay muchas cosas que hacer, apúrense!”. Lucia lived alone in Madrid, her parents had died three years ago in a car crash and she was old enough to rent an apartment with her inheritance. She, of course, had a boyfriend named Jose Luis, who was driving a baby blue Beatle, waiting at the airport doors for the girls to climb in.

That first day they had planned on riding horses. As soon as Courtney had signal she called Jay, of course, to tell him how the airplane ride was and how she was so happy to see Lucia.

“What are your plans for today”, said Jay.

 “We are going to ride horses baby!”, Courtney said.

 “Are there going to be any boys around?”, Jay said.

“I really don’t know baby, but that doesn’t matter does it? You should trust me”, Courtney said.

“You know I do Courtney, but boys are boys! Don’t you dare talk to one. Just don’t!”, Jay said.

“Well okay. You wish”, Courtney said and suddenly hung up.

So they arrived, this beautiful green fields full of grass and all sorts of animals. There they were, all of Jose Luis’s friends. And there he was, Alvaro. Courtney had met Alvaro the day she turned 18, well not actually met him, but talked to him by face time when Courtney had called her to wish her a happy birthday. They both were born on the same day and the moment Alvaro saw Courtney he knew he NEEDED to meet her though Lucia had warned her about Jay. Of course, Courtney knew about what Alvaro had said and so was really nervous. She was going to evade him, run from him, keep away from talking to him….. “Hey there!”, Alvaro said. Courtney felt her whole body shiver, her legs paralyzed. “Hey”, Courtney answered shyly. “Let’s ride. Everyone choose your horses. Courtney and Cecile, since you have never ridden before you need to go with someone”. “I’ll go with Lucia!”, Cecile said. Cecile had a boyfriend as well and really didn’t want to mess things up. Courtney was looking for someone to go with and they had all already left, except Alvaro. She knew everything was planned by all of them…. How dare they plan.. “Climb up”, said Alvaro. So Courtney had no way out. As she hopped on and wrapped her arms around him she knew Jay wouldn’t be near to…

What are we going to do with all this love?

I ought to call it mine.

But honestly I ought to scratch the sky open

and dream something worth writing down

and work a miracle rather than pleading for one

and listen to the song that breaks my own heart

and feel so much something in me explodes

and do a lot of things

I might never do.

I’m left seeing blue in half a world,

I am not here to beat as loud as she does,

she breathes in a window and blows out a supernova.

as she pulls from me I feel the lifeline stretch.

We turn to dust, to gold,

she glitters the same.

She has loved as many people

as I will ever even glance at

and I will spend my life playing catch-up.

She has known as many reasons to live

as I list now in my head

and she still drops them all every step.

She has caught as many eyes

as I dream about when I run out of sanity,

and I will spend my life running from her shadow.

She has stolen the ropes,

the connections I thought I was holding,

they love her hands and I will not lend them to her again.

I wish I was younger.

At least then she would have an excuse to be so much more.

sometimes I envy

the taken

because of the words

they can say to you,

she’s got a boy back home

so she can give you compliments that won’t come off biting like my fist in my mouth

or too sweet in a space covered with salt.

sometimes I envy

the taken

because of how simple

they can be around you,

the carefree

straight shot smiles

with no strings.

I watch this scene

like it’s the last time I’ll see it

through your eyes.

I watch your movements

like I’m learning how to be a mirror.

sometimes I envy

the taken

because of how close

they can get to you

without leaving a handprint

or lighting the room on fire.

most of the time I envy

the taken

they don’t miss you like this

but how can I miss you

when you’re always around?

You have some kind of deadly charm,

this feels like a neverending dream

that must be why I can’t control you

and lately when I go to bed with a heart too heavy to carry

I consider it an accomplishment,

a full day of longing for you or dreaming of you

I still don’t know which is which.

You keep saying

thinking she’s in love makes you feel like a narcissist,

I can tell you with no hesitation

it’s not narcissism to think I’m in love

I’ve been falling up

and not because I believe in myself

but because I believe in you

and I believe in what you believe

even if it’s not me.

Turn your back on me and I feel like a masochist once more,

spill your secrets and I finally get it,

I feel like a narcissist,

you must love me enough to trust me

and why can’t that be all I want?

I sound the warning every time

but my kingdom still looks to you for the bleeding garnet sunrise,

everything standing on end.

This feels like a neverending dream

but I still can’t reach the finish line,

the part where I can’t smother this smile anymore

because you’re always around.

There is homesickness tangled in my hair,

I won’t pull it out because I want you to tell me it is beautiful,

I want it to fade or weave through because I belong when you’re here.

You keep saying

hoping for love makes you feel like a narcissist,

I can tell you with no hesitation

it’s not narcissism to think I’m in love.

moons

we are all moons

and my sister is a volcano

blue

we are all blue

and my sister explodes red

and we’re still shuddering

as her meteorite screams through everyone’s atmosphere

and now that you’ve seen me alone

I will keep you from her as long as I can

so you don’t leap from this ledge

just to land straight in her arms

you are so much like me

but you don’t want to kiss a mirror

and she is something you will never understand

we are all moons

but I don’t want to rise

I want to stop being a metaphor

I want to stop being the wrong metaphor

I want to know that I could kill you if I wanted

she walks with that destruction and doesn’t even feel its weight

Even when she’s erupting

she has more magic than we’ve ever held

She can melt everything your skin tries to protect

but it hurts like longing

I can only give you a cold embrace,

they call me beautiful

but only in the dark

only because they know they can’t know me

I want to stop being the wrong metaphor

When I’m wounded

I want to bleed searing lava

not the soft glow of starlight,

no one ever writes about the sky being fierce

I am just

vast and

beautiful mystery

and I want to be

a volcano

Messing with destiny, time standing still

Delirious with laughter and the next thing you know

we’ve both done things we shouldn’t have

Shouldn’t I know

it would have to end

and after late nights and stargazing,

secrets and comebacks

the best part is over

But you’re an expert,

I’m a fool

and as I’m counting the currency

of everything we’ve done

There’s always a better one

She walks in and we’re reduced

a rainstorm instead of a hurricane

I raise up a white flag,

push my gold to the edge

Shouldn’t I know something

so beautiful

would burn so brightly at its end

The Jealous Mockingbird

Once there was a mockingbird, whose name was Mike, sitting on the branch of a big three. He had not only shiny feathers but a mighty voice all his friends admired. He was singing his graceful song and dancing to it when another mockingbird sat next to him, one he had never seen before. “A new friend” he thought to himself, and decided to keep quiet in order to listen to him sing. This new mockingbird sang and his song was beautiful, but Mike was neither impressed nor delighted by his new friend’s talent, instead he felt jealousy, fearing that the song of his enemy was better than his. “This can’t be, my song is the best one there is. But just in case...” and the mockingbird decided to steal this song. And he practiced and practiced until he had master this new song, and now he could sing not only just his original song but this new one too. “This is proof that I am the best” he thought “if I can sing his song it means I am more talented than him”, and he went back to his nest to call it a day.

Next morning he woke up ready to show everyone his new talent and headed to the top branch of the highest tree, cleared his throat and sang his song full-throated, making sure that all his fellow mockingbirds could hear. As he always did, he catched the attention of all the other birds who kept quiet to listen to him and when they were all looking and him, he stopped for a second and began to sing his newly learned song. All the other birds froze, but not because they had liked this new song, but because they were shocked that Mike had sang a different song than his.

“This is outrageous” mockingbird Alexis, one of the elders, said “a mockingbird is born with a song of its own and that song is beautiful and original and special because it was composed specially for him” and he flew away offended at what he had just witnessed.

But not all of the mockingbirds thought like elder Alexis, and applauded Mike’s mastery on song-shifting. “If he can do it I can do it too” one of them said, “I bet we all can” the other one replied. And so it began that all the mockingbirds began to steal each other’s songs, changing from one to another and even forgetting their own. And newborn mockingbirds were no longer encouraged to find their true voice but to choose whose song to steal. And ever since Mike decided to still a song, no new songs had been heard and jealousy and mistrust spread, mockingbirds feared that they would be copied and always looked forward to coping others, and the old days when they all danced to their songs and shared them and admired the diversity were long gone. And it all began to decay until one day it was all over.

And this is the story of how the world ended. You may wonder why there were no explosions or chaos but you know what they say: “This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper” (T. S. Eliot)

On a dark road I am blinded by your high beams and my lustful destructive love. My intentions projected on you. I forget what comes at me. I forget the collision. The beautiful lights on a dark empty highway. You drive drunk with indecision and pain. I drive drunk with lust, passion, and jealousy. We collide and end up wrecked in a ditch of disagreement. Our vehicles totaled in a wreckage of despair. We flee the scene nursing the wounds we recklessly inflicted on eachother. Where is the romance in car crashes and mutually assured destruction?