ironies of life

bringing up the poet in me.

I miss my poet self

so ill start... with love.. or better said lust.

You were never the one,
not for one second,
but still so worth it,
with you was about the moment, not about the method.

I like you, in different ways
I like your body and your hair
the sound of your songs on my ear,
and your stories to get me there.

Your dance, not much to love
but still the way was a thing
you had the beat,
but still not for me.

you told me that last time we speak:
"keep waiting for your prince charming then,
but how you know is not me?"
I just knew it, and you too, it is what it is.

and why do i write about you? because you are the proof
of how life is funny and weird and twisted
not the one to be under my same roof
even where you are so hot,  able, sweet and gifted.

that year I was in ny, 2004
you would be everything I ever loved
but i met you 11 years later,
why?, just knows the lord.

I like you tons,
from day 1 to none
you are something i will remember
even tho, nothing to hold.

I like you in my own way of liking
I loved your being in my own way of loving
and even tho we just cross paths,
we were meant to be for those weeks .. growing..

you are here now, and you are there
I'm here and i will be there, and its fine.
Its part of life, and now we know
honesty is crucial for people like us.

Greetings for you chrevor with a t.
from this mexican girl you met
for those sudden weeks

I wil remember you.
and him too.. the one that was everything
for one second, and now, for real
is not even here. lol.

Pamela.