I sewed your silhouette into my subconscious,
staring with closed eyes that were too starstruck for words.
Your stare was stuck to the cinema screen,
serene love story lit up and reflected in your eyes,
shared in secret as time ticked away,
and we dreamed devoted, devious things.
My head felt heavy,
hoping to rest on your chest,
but propped up by trepidation.
Esta noche is endless,
or at least it will be when I remember it,
for you are my first true love affair,
and your stare stays, fixed to the cinema screen,
but your hand rests softly in mine,
and I will forever be aflame at the thought.
I washed up in the waves of your memory,
dressed in last night’s lovely dream,
hair soaked in salt water and the solemn recollection of the last time your eyes encompassed me.
I only arrive when you ask.
Don’t blame me for my presence,
when you presented yourself to the ocean and pleaded for her to pull me back into your orbit.
I am nothing but a whisper in the dark,
but when you bring me here,
you behave as if I am the moon and stars themselves,
bowing low on the floor,
writing sonnets in the sand with shaking fingertips,
and I stand in cautious confusion,
because you’re always so sweet,
for a second or two,
before the paradise of love falls away,
like a sandcastle doing battle with the might of the sea.