By: Paulo Lorenzo L. Garcia
I pity the man who will love you
when I’m through.
Late at night, he’ll catch your restless eyes
peeping through the roof for stars
I named after you
and when he follows each star
from point to point,
he’ll realize there’s not a single
constellation left for him to name
that wasn’t once ours.
He’ll be indignant.
He’ll take a ladder and a net
and fish some stars out of the sky
but he will find them out of his reach.
He’ll be left with a starless canvass of night
and then there’ll be silence.
He will ask about me
but you’ll deny it
You will cast me down with the same
tar of neglect you did your former lovers
and he will take comfort in this
You’ll make bold proclamations of love
and he’ll fall for these.
He’ll take the battle to the Earth,
A rust of alcohol
lacing your clumsy-tongued promises.
He’ll want you.
And he will drink you down
faster than the last bottle
of cheap beer
his fingers scuttling over
acres upon acres of you
and your porcelain skin,
and there he’ll find me.
He’ll hear my name spoken
for the first time
through your drunken lips
wondering if it was still
fingers you felt tracing the
under part of your lips.
He’ll sleep wondering
if you dream of me
He’ll hear all sorts of stories
How I laughed
How I cried
And How I loved.
But you’ll never tell him why
But you’ll never tell him why…
Then he will remember
He will remember the night he fished for our stars
and failed, knowing he wasn’t at fault.
And then he’ll understand
He’ll understand why you can’t look
At yourself in the mirror
He’ll understand why you’re afraid
and then, only then will he know
that every corner of you
body and soul
is possessed by me.
Paulo Lorenzo L. Garcia writes whenever his mouth can’t speak in his never-ending quest for awareness both of himself and of the people around him. A self-confessed homebody, he writes all the way from Quezon City, Philippines. He is a BSED Graduate, majoring in English. He is currently braving the turbulent waters of the most spine-tingling thought ever to plague the human mind: teaching high school students. His interests include reading classic literature, writing, and the British Monarchy. He is not known to be the life of the party, but rather its gruesome death. You’ve been forewarned. Garcia’s poetry has appeared in Young Writers of Earth and The Literary Yard.