Crushing the Leaves, Incantation

The mint leaves in the lemon balm watered down with boiling… I inhale and infused become my lungs with little molecules of magic preparing to sink me down like a stone floating to the bottom of the ocean. She cries and I try to rack my head for words that can make everything okay, a reassurance—butterflies hugging the petals. He looks like he’ll cry; his face seems solemn like the depths of my heart. My soul is benthic because the light of your life doesn’t reach my eyes. Sighs in the sounds of teardrops falling on the books that you read to learn how to live. He looks out his window and sees the trees with pink and purple backdrops of sky and his lips ache from the crying, the kissing, the passion of having to say I’m sorry and goodbye. She looks at her cards while seeking meaning in the train tracks that take her in opposing directions. All the while they struggle with their sadness I struggle with needing their joy to remember that life is light and sound and waves of pleasure and intense fear.

I’ll try to not drive off the bridge tonight, but my dreams will take me there and I will be powerless as I see myself locked in the car falling into the ocean. Get rid of my fears, but I am an ant about to drown in the boiling ocean of my teacup with the chemicals that will fill my body until I am nothing other than them. Listen to me when I’m crying and when I’m singing out the window at the top of my lungs. I want you to hear me and know that for one moment, life will be just right and you are beautiful and will be at peace with all that come your way. I want you to listen to me when I tell you that you won’t know what love is until you’re on the verge of losing a life, your mind, your blood. Please listen to me when I tell you that while the sky may crack and explosions will occur in the sky, you can be safe in the hands of a stranger or in the hands of a lover or good friend.

The mint leaf is cut from the plant and its extract refreshes my throat as I swallow the warm water after letting the taste savor on my tongue. Refresh my head so that I can tell him to go back home and be with his parents so that they won’t cry at night hoping they haven’t lost their only son. Come back and say you’re sorry and tell them that you love them and you’ll get all the help you need from the drugs and the high life. My mother calls me to hear my voice so that she can tell if it’s too soft or weak or bustling with energy. She calls me to let me know that she loves me and without me she’d die. I love you mamá, tell el titi that I love him.

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