manuel of la brea

57

carmine

Didn’t know I was losing myself 
while I was winning praise.
Didn’t see how it didn’t look right,
I was up to my neck in fame.
So busy chasing the crowds—
strangers are not strangers to me.

You would hear them plead
for my little attention
even if my tongue 
never spoke their names.
You would see them grin like devils
but would glorify those
speculations and rumors.
You would see their eyes burn
as I radiated brighter than the sun.
You would see them question
the moon that witnessed my
mistakes on the road not taken.

But you wouldn’t see them
commend my triumph—
you could tell it by their faces.

Didn’t know you exist
until my friends talk about you.
Eyebrows were heavier than ever,
asking the town for your name.

Until my t-shirt splashed
deeper than crimson 
Like a wild watermelon,
it was carmine.
And you saw me wearing it.
You were not surprised
although you wanted
to wipe it with kindness.