I’m sorry. thank you. Hello and goodbye
watch it go, watch it stop. watch as I cry
au revoir. adios. remember me as I am
ill never be the same. reinvent me Madame
i used to fish for stars right in my hand
and give them to you as a present. kazam
Abra kadabra, promise not to break your promise
how ironic.
at least leave me with recognizable face, my darling
atleast leave me in decent condition
least you could do to your secret magician.
alcoholic astrologist
captured your drunken words in Ursa Major. How modest, this
sonnet of clay. molded lava. bottle deranged
admonish the pain. now soothe me with sutures
that you stitch with your fingertip dipped in the ruby
it’s not all the same. how’d you find your way here?
moonlit ballads, shadows kissed your brassiere
memorize the sounds of your footsteps
they filled up the room, hold me down as the dusk sets
pillar of doom. left the print of your mouth on my gunsling
video recorded a lot of our moments
now I’ve got film montages of every proponent
how malevolent. coping with the dissected mistrust
I’ve learned more about myself being alone, than in love
ran out of sanctions to word, how my brain figures hurt
turn in your grave. there’s no perfecter way to to observe
the earth inbetween toes. inbetween fingers calloused with rage
now balance it. balance faith with distaste




lush scenery, that brushes bushed greenery. beloved blood cherries above deluxe deviled trees, heavenly heralded pillows of snow, mounded desperately as chimney smoke infectiously grows. Christmas time, white and merlot. bite your lips on contact. lick the quietest contrast of colors of this bombastic thunder. as iron fists let the fireplace thaw out the slumber, as you claw down my jawline and my eyes dilate, you fall down a puddle that I create. dive in a divine pool right by the lake. curvature nature, lavender bursts from the rainbow, flavor flirts with the power emanates from your halo. float with me atop of this palace of clay, where pallets of sage surround and crusade us. flowers betray us as we wear flowered berets, a bouquet of dandelions is our only escape. thousand of petals bewildered as they tack onto the grass in the glades, shades of chlorophyll strap onto your shoulder blades where we lay. the ozone fills argon gray, my soul spills into pavement, time stays still for a day.

Published by Cristian Leonardo

Cristian's Cafe. This is my cafe, we have Wi-Fi, but it's not very good. Poetry, Podcasts, Personal Blogging, Research Articles, Open Mic, Comedy, Art. An entire website dedicated to my many forms of expression and happiness.

7 thoughts on “CACTUS

  1. If I say “interesting”, what do you hear? Your writing is, interesting. I(t’s “blanquito” by the way and I don’t see, hear or feel that about you when reading/hearing your words.) No. Interesting.

    I had a toy when I was a little girl. It was a top. I press down on the stick and the top would spin frenetically. I could watch that spin for, what seemed, hours. It did nothing but spin. It didn’t change shape or color. I liked the feeling of making it spin. That’s how I read/hear your words. I don’t know what you sound like. I have created a voice for you. I could sit and spin your words for hours. They don’t change shape or color. I like the the feeling of how they make me spin. Interesting. I didn’t think that could happen. Thank you.

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