Is it harder to love you,
on rainy days,
when the temperature hits below 10-
and no one looks for the stars?
Do you take your walks,
across my mind-
at 2:00am on a Wednesday,
the cactus still dreaming?
And when my breath stops,
from the words-
that struggle to roll out of my tongue.
Do I prescribe myself sleep?
Like a language class:
I am taught the hellos-
the beginning.
but somehow I always seem to miss out on the lesson-
on how to say 'goodbye'.
YOU ARE READING
Tokyo Dearest
PoesíaA mountain sipping on a cup of sand, Weaving streetlights out of Polaris- A raindrop I kissed, and why I am fine without this.
