Belgique - in The past tense Belgium- in the past tense How could he possibly love someone like me I ask myself while we speak simultaneously on every single social network there is I am someone that sometimes too often too soon cry glitter tears while reading my own poetry The streets are my runway and one day ( I tell him) I might run away Don’t ask me to stay Let them take me away, like Chinese takeaway His lips are disrespectful when they call me beautiful and my ears believes because they were raised to be respectful I look into his brown eyes Brown like the ground, not blue like the skies and I tell him that if you had eyes as blue as the Tenerife sea I would eventually get sea sick But then again if you had eyes as blue as the skies I would go skydiving every single evening we were Skyping He has his mothers eyes, but not his fathers ears In his only sister lies his dreams and fears She’s not Grace, she’s graceful Pretty, not cute, but aspiring to beautiful His the prince, like I she’s the princess And I am the mess The perfect definition of imperfect The human version of stress The choice you should not select yet He has a different point of view He says that you, you are the woman not behind, but in front of my success So when I’ll be chasing you I’ll be chasing the very best and those ones, he says, are the hardest to get You’re the kind of woman that will make me earn your respect Still sometimes I must admit you are the human version of a headache But I would not mind to become an addict to your kind of ‘Paracet’ Together we were not black, more like burned in colors Temporary believing in a world that was not ours And our blood was red like the flowers he did not give me because he did not want to become mainstream Our bloodstreams was not royal blue, it went boringly through shallow green bloodvains In between that yellow pain that remains after the trill after the painkillers kill pill fade My teachers grade ( I tell him) written with a red pen used to make me faint but when I hold my nephew I feel brand new Like I am born again, a saint But my nieces tootles smile reminds me that I am still a sinner This poem might take me a while BCS in this love thing; I am a new beginner. After eight we ate french fries and french croissants while he spoke his medical phrase with a french accent Even though he lived in Belgium I remember on the last bus stop we laughed non stop as if high on helium And I swear I could heal him (you) We both wished it was raining so that when our smiles stopped smiling we would blame it on the universe Now what makes matters even worse is that I am writing in the past tense BCS the gift of the present could not handle it So with a candle lit Let’s take a moment of silence While we learn how to dance In the rain Lets blame La distance Our let’s blame the society or the difference between coffee and tea Let’s reminisce on his first kiss that did not taste like blueberries But more like unspoken promises too good to be told or like one pair of hands in the december cold Filed with love, but too freezing to be hold Or like the controversies of news being old Like U and I spelled we one plus one does not equal three It equals one You’ll understand when you’ll find that someone that teaches you how to feel fluently Because our love was a foreign language from an undiscovered country We were stumbling between right and wrongs Fambeling to grasp building mentions based on conversations like songs And the past is where this kind of love belongs Quand les temps sont dur, on se dit pire que notre histoires n’existe pas It’s like we had it all until it was lost Ready to love, but not ready to trust We believed the world was not yet ready for us us The kind of masterpiece that could not mater peace with a piece of his and a piece of mine could give us peace of mind but not buy us more time Our love was a landline Bombed by a grenade not like the fruit But like the youth we were hoping that this feeling would never fade But he was way too afraid Of his teachers grade, and the great immense of a love so intense that you have to feel it in the past tense Eventually he looked at me and didnt see eternity but boundaries Gone were those days when we used to believe that our vocals were locals that it was not interracial but international That we were the skeleton not the skin Not the religion, but the values within That we were the perfection in incomplete compliments That we were the resurrection of the beauty in commitment But despite the modern satellite and the fact that we were under the same moonlight Belgium is still very far And since an airplane is not a shooting star His flight gate became our last date Do you believe in finding a soulmate? I did. I also believe in terrible timing, slowly moving, and regretting to late. Lets blame it on the universe. And to make matters even worse I am writing in the past BCS Belgium is still very far
Posted on: Wed, 14 Jan 2015 17:42:48 +0000
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