Giving In

One day, I too, will cease to be as will all pathways leading to me. Hopefully you will immortalize me each day in your memory. Unfortunately sometimes we may have to leave, quite unwillingly.


FZ You Are Always Loved

Wisteria skies are on fire with the pretty pink and purple petals against the backdrop of red and orange sky-flames. Time shifts and rolling white foamy clouds fill a cold sky as hail and snow fall in disorderly ways. The warm liquid pours down my throat, leaving a burning sensation when all outside is freezing. My hand is held and I am wrapped in strong and safe arms. I just had the realization that the skies mirrored what I once called love.

15 Questions Left Unanswered 

I’ve got 15 questions. 
14 Ways to tell a lie with 13 minutes left to go in which I wait 12 hours to receive a response. 
Where have you been and where are you going? This is because you’re certainly not here with me. 
It feels as if 10 years of friendship are a child’s story, full of hope and naivety. 
Why haven’t you messaged or called yet? 
There are 9 truths that you keep behind your lips with 8 tales and 7 countries but none revolve around me. 
When will you come back so that you can see me? I’ll miss you for 6 months in which you’ll be unattainable. There will be six months and much over 5 times in which I’ll remind you that I still love you. 
Do you still love me too, my old friend?
In 4 fingers of my hand I can count the hours left to which I’ll have more dreams about you. 
There are 3 words that will convey my sentiments towards you. There will always be 2 variations of those three words because they run on the same spectrum. 
Did you know that the opposite was indifference?
There is 1 fly that sends wails into my ear like the long dead hopes that I housed with your name. 
Did you know that I miss you dearly?

Have you been thinking of me?

Are you doing well, are you safe?

Does your heart still hurt?

Do you know that I feel exhausted?

Did you forget that I have little patience?

Can you feel my spirit trying to touch yours at night?

Are you as alone in bed as am I? 

Will you be back soon?

Did you read these fifteen questions?

Crashing Waters

Inside my chest flow waves of sorrow waiting to be freed at the sound of your name. They will inundate the streets of neurons within my head and strike lapping conversations with the thunderous sky that blankets our connected-disconnected cities. Those very same waves are filling up the trenches of my chest dug by your hands. I’ll probably never see you tomorrow, again. 

Looks Like Chernobyl

Old structures by the sea are beaten down into broken pieces of concrete and tarnished walls. Fires raged, leaving their mark throughout the infrastructure of this hydroelectric plant. Everything back home feels like buildings decapitated of their souls. The comandante and his delivered promises of success lacked derision at first, while all were brainwashed with the hopes of days yet to come for a freer Cuba. Lies rotting out of the eyes of the politicians, one of my grandfathers lied too—after falling into the trap of a skewed version of equality. Little did they know they should have looked towards equity, maybe then our homes and workspaces would still breathe life into our people.

Overgrown with grass creeping over cement walls, our buildings decompose like the living beings that performed their lives’ work within them. Steam stacks don’t spew steam anymore, but the invisible souls of my people float onward, upward, towards a heaven of blue skies and turquoise oceans that wail against the rocks separating our buildings from it. My people have drowned in that ocean as they try to escape crumbling structures like the Cuban government, once and always full of corruption and disguises. Old TV screens are housed in each building because at least all people deserve a TV, better to brainwash them with.

One day the fifth floor will destroy the fourth and the only way to go from there will be down… and down will my people go. Down will fall my soul with every cracking piece of wall like the breaking heart encased within my ribs. I’ll just sit here across the ocean staring at Jupiter’s raging storm in my coffee as I ponder origins and family trees nonexistent, forever forgotten in history like the structures I speak of.

Image by V. Ariosa taken in Santa Cruz del Norte, Provincia Mayabeque (previously part of Provincia Habana). Electric Plant.

Image by V. Ariosa taken in Santa Cruz del Norte, Provincia Mayabeque (previously part of Provincia Habana). Electric Plant.