Given Time

I think the harshest thing
About love is the
Given time
The time that is allocated
For each of our romance
To play out

We think it is there forever
That this window of opportunity is
Ours to grab at any time
And so
We doubt
We halt
We falter
We play silly games
With the body and the mind
In our folly we do not realize
The fleetingness of time

I remember that
When we met
We both felt
So strong
About each other
We felt that
It was one of
Those encounters
That stop time
You told me back then
One meets people like that
Once in every ten years
Or perhaps fifteen

You told me I was
The woman of your decade
But you´ve been wrong
And I relied on that count
The missing years were lost
In the promises we gave to each other
In the promises I could not recover
I realized that
We have wasted our
Given time

Little Bird

I´ll be the little bird in the cage
That you told me about
You said you´d like to keep me in a cage
Just for your pleasure

I´ll be the little bird you pictured
In a jeweled cage with comfortable pillows
That added a real nice touch

Many had come up with the jewels
But you were the only one
Who thought about the pillows

I´ll be the little bird you didn´t want
I´ll be the little bird that you
Forbade yourself from having
When you suddenly stopped
You stopped yourself in that train of thought
You said it out loud
What is this shit
This is some sick shit
That I am saying

And so it never came through
The jeweled cage with the pillow
The bird was let loose
But I stayed confined
By all the promises that were broken
A little bird with a broken heart

The Men I Have Loved

I am telling you that one day
I am gonna take them out
The whole bucket list
I will take all the men
That I have ever loved
I will turn them into characters
Of literary fiction
Make them all kill each other

Maybe I will let you survive
You have been the smartest
You are the oldest too
It is no fun to kill an old guy

Out of all the men I have loved
Maybe I will grant you mercy
I will let you live to tell the story
Of the kind of love that knows no bounds
I will write a dozen stories about you
I will make you die a natural death in all of them
I will mourn you
In the most sentimental ways
So that on the day you die
I will not be so devastated

Three Times The Charm

We almost met two times before
Twice before it came together
Two times it was almost love
And then one of us
Finally said it
They say three times the charm

When you came you had three gifts for me
They were charms but it didn´t matter to me
That you had me spellbound

Only when you walked away from me
I became slightly worried
About the love spells
That you cast

So I walked down to the river
Your gifts I threw them into the river
That flows through my home town
When I stood by the river

The swans took notice they all came closer
They laughed at me it was a sordid laughter
I bet they know

I bet they know we think them to be
Symbols of true love
I though that was cruel

I broke the spell
But it didn´t matter
Because eventually my river flows
Into the same ocean as yours
So if you then took my gifts
And threw them into your river
As well in your home town
Like us they will meet inevitably
Some day on a garbage pile
In the middle of Atlantic

Love After Dark

Love is victimology at its finest

Crimes of passion
Fill this film noir

Love is such an ungodly thing
That you might only
Ponder it seriously
After dark

With a glass of wine

You may need a full bottle
When you go confront
The ghosts of betrayal
In the alleys
After dark
After dark

Love has claimed
Many a victim among those who
Went out after dark

After dark
After dark

Make sure your gun is well stashed
Deep inside the drawers
Tucked among the bedsheets
When you go on
Pondering love
After dark

Things That Could Have Been

What if all the things that could have been
Exist on another timeline

What if I didn´t board that plane
What if you arrived an hour later
What if I didn´t like the place after all
What if she found out about us

What if my dad was right
What if I didn´t pick up the phone
What if the cops didn´t know any better
What if I will never get to know the whole story

The things that could have been
Keep piling up under my carpet
Like a body count

What if he straightened out eventually
What if he went back to drugs
What if I had kept the baby
What if I didn´t sell out

What if it got out of hand
What if I walked away too soon
What if he lied to all of us

If I were to bury
Every single one of those timelines
I wouldn´t be able to find a big enough shovel

So I live them out
Somewhere else

In another corner of the time-space continuum
I live out all my lives
In a place dedicated to all the
The things that could have been

He Loves You

He loves you

He loves you but
He loves his power more

He loves you but
He loves his wife more

He loves you but
He loves his habits more

He loves you but
He loves his ideas more

One thing I have learnt is that
It is vain to compete against habit
You can try with ideas and wives
Perhaps even with power
But you won´t ever win against the habit
Just like they told me
We know he loves you
But he will always
Love drugs more

I Had A Dream

It´s 4:30 A.M.

The night of summer solstice. 

I just woke up, it´s right before the dawn. 

Something interesting just happened to me. I had a dream. Or was it? Immediately I realize a floating awareness around me of dream memory. 

I feel as if I have lived through the same scene before. 

I get suspicious. That´s what suppressed memories do when they start resurfacing. 

I lived through this before. 

In the dream I am eighteen or perhaps nineteen. It is the last year of high school. I live through an all-night party, a teenage orgy they threw at the end of the school year. It would have been summer, like now, late June. 

There is booze and there is dope. I see dim lighting, and in several rooms, teens are making out. Perhaps most interestingly, all of this takes place in an apartment that belongs to a family friend of ours. 

Mister L. and his young wife are known to be libertine, so that´s why they would let us do it at their place. 

L.´s wife is not present at the party, even though she had agreed to it. 

He, on the other hand, is there, with us. He is a man in his mid- thirties, roughly fifteen years older than all of us. I think I had seen him masturbate in the dark recesses of one of the rooms. There is an understanding among all of us that he is supposed to watch and not to touch. And since we have no other place to do this and we are horny, we do not mind. We are grateful for the opportunity. 

At around 2 A.M. the party is going at full steam. Some of us, the more experienced and more unrestrained, we get into full nudity and actual sex. I am one of them. I have been an early blooming flower, since I lost my virginity at fifteen. In the 2 A.M. scene I perceive myself on the right side of a bed that is at least queen size, perhaps bigger, with curtains. There is a blond girl next to me, and somebody, likely a boy, nearby. I am more intimate with the girl. We are still at that age when boys feel clumsy, they won´t go for the kill in a confident way. 

There is a climax of sorts. One. Then another one. 

I am in an altered state of consciousness and beginning to feel tired. So when Mr. L., who has been observing us the whole time, offers to take us upstairs and show us where to sleep, I take his hand eagerly. He walks me upstairs by the hand on a winding staircase covered with mushy carpets, I can feel it on my feet. I am still fully naked. When we get into the master bedroom, things take on a different turn. Now he is undressed, and I am too high. I am too high to raise any objection. 

We have sex.

It is short and to the point and we both get off on it. 

Maybe that is the moment in the dream when I recall with a pinch of conscience that we broke the rules, that he was there supposed to watch and not to touch. Maybe I added it later and there was no pinch when I realized it. Anyhow, I deal with it by drifting off to sleep.

The emotional breakpoint of the story and the reason I would have suppressed it lies in the aftermath of the situation. 

One of my classmates, the blond girl who caressed me and who saw me leave with Mr. L., launches a conspiracy of gossip that casts judgment over me. I am not afraid it would get to the adults, because it won´t. Rather, I fear for my standing in the class. I broke the rules, and the pack went after blood. It´s an execution, televised. 

Never mind that I was barely conscious. The adult self intercedes into the dialogue with the teenage self. He was taking advantage of me. Though I can´t say that I didn´t like it. It is what I always wanted. The boys were just so lame. Maybe that is where my real sin was found.  We are a Catholic chartered school in fact. We are not supposed to do it. And yet we do. In order to absolve us of sin, we need a sacrifice of blood. And I provided it. I was designated as the sacrificial goat. Everybody felt so guilty. Not only did we break the rule of God, we broke the only rule required from us by our gracious host. At that time, we had no capacity to judge it any different. At the moment it also made perfect sense to me that he would be so kind as to show me a place where to sleep. I was naïve. Even though he has just watched me orgasm so I´d walk from there fully naked. I was naïve, just trusting. I haven´t yet learnt about the world. It was still waiting to be discovered and this was one rite of passage into adulthood, one that we all craved.

But somebody saw it and made a big deal out of it. Kids are cruel. They also have the ability to deflect blame and the guilt because being kids they don´t yet live by their own rules. They need to conform to the expectations of the society and the adults. 

There is an “after” scene a few weeks later when school has closed. 

In it, everybody is fully clothed. It is a social scene downstairs in the front hall of the same apartment. I am there with my parents, Mr. L., and some other people. We stand by the shoe cabinet and the adults are conversing. 

I realize how tall everybody seems to be around me. It makes it easier for me to stare down, so as not to draw any attention to me. I feel so bad.  I felt like this my whole childhood. But this comes easy. All I have to do is remain quiet and let them go about their business. They will exhaust the niceties soon and we will go. I am glad that there is no need to look L. eye to eye. His wife is standing right behind him.

I get up and I turn on the lights. I deliberate for a full hour as I write this down in my diary.  

Could this have been a real life memory?

Could this be there reason why when I met him at twenty-eight when we randomly bumped into each other at a business event, he smiled and waved all over the hall on me? I barely recognized him, but he was all over me, bursting with familiar feelings, some of which I sensed shouldn´t have been there. I just couldn´t put my finger on it. 

Or maybe the dream just informed me that the way you see your friends´ teenage daughter is very different from the way he sees you and nothing ever happened for real. I would have just picked up from the environment he was lusting after me. 

In real life I recall his apartment to be slightly different, in a different neighborhood. Though maybe that´s where they would have moved years later when they had kids. Maybe it was more of a rental property, or just some place they had in custody. 

Then again, maybe it never existed.

False Pretenses

The man sitting across me frowns with a sense of genuine dissatisfaction.

“It looks like I came here under false pretenses. I thought I would be the only one making you lewd proposals. Now, if your photos have been on the Internet, you must be getting a lot of those.” 

He then moved his glass on the table a little closer to mine. I was about to assure him that I will consider his lewd proposal, when I realized that the whole situation reminded me of something. I too, once went on a date under false pretenses.

Years ago, I met a guy at a party and he was instantly into me. We flirted, he paid for all my drinks and even hailed a cab to get me home safely. Since he was on organizer´s duty on that particular event, he could not excuse himself so he promised to meet me the next day. 

So the next day, as soon as we could get up we snuck into a cafe. As soon as he sat across the table from me, I noticed something was off about him. He was grinning, a grimace of dissatisfaction ruining his pretty face. I thought that maybe he had a girlfriend all along, and now, sober in broad daylight, his conscience got the best of him. 

He said nothing of it, just remarked that he´d remembered me differently, maybe it was the light. I casually remarked that I had poor eyesight in the dark, that I actually liked him better now. Our conversation flowed from there on pretty smoothly. He was still interested in me, and suggested we meet again in the club, after dark. Still, there was this feeling that something is off, that I couldn´t properly account for. 

My doubts remained unanswered until Monday when I casually remarked on my plight to a young client who came to my office. The man in question turned out to be a mutual acquaintance. When I told her about the surprised grimace, she covered her mouth in awe, and uttered, 

“Don´t you know?” 

“Know what? What am I supposed to know about him that escaped me?” 

“It was the glasses!” 


“The glasses!” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He has a huge fetish for glasses. The school teacher look. You have it. You must´ve taken them off later!” 

I realized that indeed, I was wearing glasses on the night but not in the morning. I´ve heard about fetishes and costumes, I just never knew it had such power to create false pretenses.

The Books You Keep

 I came up to your library and asked what is your Bible

Which of the books that you keep would be the one

You know the Art of War by heart so that must be it

You live to keep up the fight


I found you a book by similar name

I brought you the Art of Love

You said you had no place for it

Not in it this age and time


I left it with you anyway

I know you would keep it in your closet

For anyone who comes here after us

But since we know that nobody is coming 

You will keep

It there

For us

To Hell and Back

I would go to hell and back

With you

I said I would go to hell and back with you 

And so you let me know

That is where we are

About to go 


I would go to hell and back

For you 

I said that I would go to hell and back for you 

And now I know

That is where I need to go

Because that is where you are found 


You said

This world is a dark dark place 

You said

That most people have no idea

What the world is about

You said

That the end is coming

So how do you go from that place 

Into the light?


Only by the grace of god 

The god you know nothing of

Only by the grace of god

Who has betrayed you

Only by the grace of god 

The same god who said 

Blessed are the ignorant 

Blessed are the meek 

And the stupid

Most of all


In moments of darkness 

You pray to the god that is not there

That he makes his absence more visible 

You don’t like it

For the fallen to hold onto false hopes

The faith of the fallen 

There is no glory in defeat 

I Was Happy

I was happy three times this year.


The first time it was with you

When you asked me to get married

I was happy for three days in a row I was ecstatic

Before I realized it´s just a plot to keep me

And that nothing will ever change


The second time I was happy

When you whom I had long wished to come back

You came back and you gave your all

But too much time had passed

I guess it just came too late


For the third time I was happy

When you showed up when least expected

Because I always wanted to get close to you

They say three time´s a charm

There was that magic

I was happy


I still am happy though I am writing in past tense

One day past tense is all we shall have

You said we are headed towards death

That a man´s life is all about duty

With happiness an occasional by-product

Well I am doing my part here

In putting this on paper

Writing has been my duty all along

I’m not going to deny it

I was happy when I was writing

I was happy when I was still writing

So maybe you had a point


I was happy when I was writing

Even though life was rough

The numbers in the love equation don´t add up

But people keep asking for the stories

And that brings hope to my life because

If you live to tell the tale

Then anything that happens is alright

There´s no need to judge it

Just type it


So I was happy when you scorned me

I was happy when you built me up

I was happy

Because I was writing

I had a hell of a thing to write about