i feel like i’m hurting a lot right now and i don’t really understand
why still seeing you walking down the street and choosing to ignore you can derail me
imagining you with your hands on my face painting it white
imagining your laugh, the dab of the black on your fingers
your swinging cross on the chain, the jesus above your bed
the way your hood was pulled tightly around your face as you walked by
as i pretended you didn’t exist as a way to grasp blindly for some sort of power
the hurt that is worse for being inadvertent
unfinished business that i’m beginning to realize you may never finish
that keeps hurting
and the way we walked around new haven that night
faceless, invigorated by the mask glued right above our skin
you calling your mother and watching me trying to read me in the watson basement
the mask that you created not letting you in
i feel its return now
as it raises from below my skin
like when we watched coco and i looked over at you and you were silently weeping
an action i had never seen on you
the hurt that makes us turn mean to protect ourselves
as you danced with me without caring in the abandoned plaza
and asked me if i was even hispanic months later
the light and the heavy becoming confused
indistinguishable to the untrained eye
that wasn’t there to feel the punch in the gut
or the surge of an inexplicable happiness---
the kind you don’t want to speak of
that glows golden on the inside of your skin
a warm secret against your chest.
and as we pass I feel cold
steeling myself into feigned ignorance
beyond the smile i know is on your face every familiar detail pains me
lingering inside for the rest of the night
in ways i can't explain.
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