Impossible.

I think of you sometimes, what was once you. How our talks use to go, the ones before I could have a boy in my room. Just you and me on the phone, claiming one another so we both know. Convincing me to meet you in the night, between the willow trees’ path and dark drenched in moonglow. How could I say no.

I recognize not knowing you, the face now showing you. When the I love you drifts with you, leaving the fog confused where to attach to you. A part of me goes with you when you walk away from those words sometimes, and only emptiness stands where the I love you and a friendship once bloomed.

I hate you… Impossible, I promise you. I shake to know where your mind goes, possible. My hand is still here for you to hold. I adore you and told you so, clumsy though. I know. You don’t hear me because you refuse. What an old, hairline fracture to a heart does to a man’s soul. Don’t go. Split in two, do I choose me or do I choose you. I wish somehow to enchant you, too. Maybe we invite each other in, and we choose me and you. Not impossible, I promise you.

Between Jerusalem and Mexico series, a taboo love.