Disassociation and Cursive: A Poem Letter to Dissociation and Regret

You spoke passionately, breathing in between; about how we could practically look at each other without speaking and know what we mean. Hold my hands. Slight facial gesture, radiant beam. On the cusp of extraordinary meaning, emboldened by components both constructed with a definition of love. Uphold the only person I wouldn’t give up. Ultralight fixture hooked by the seams. Lean over and tell me to be sweet to you. A declaration without question I consented to. Something from dreams. Dreams realized by coincidence. You see, I don’t believe in happenstance, or the desultory theory. I don’t believe in randomness, or fortuitous grandeur. I don’t believe we told each other we loved each other in our most comfortable ways, because it was random and we had to say it because we were put on the spot. Hand me the anthem to your beating heart, look how easeful we let ourselves be. Enjoy the moment, don’t let anything interject this telltale juncture. I felt scared, but I fell asleep through it all. No other feet on the floor, making the wood creak. Just you and I. No makeup, no making up things to hinder or shade the initial way we very diligently feel. Under the shade, drunk, untouchable, dazed, you told me you did, and I remember your body. Audacious. Bronze, bold, and barely sorry. You stretched it out and let me kiss your neck till we stopped breathing. I’m not seeing the dots. Sequences mocked in my head, surrealistic. Please, pass the 1800 I left at your place. Take a swig, take a swim in it till we recreate what we wanted to make. Now what the fuck did we want to make? Alcoholic infinity pool. Ideas wrapped in embalming fluid, conservation effort at its best. Medical kits ravaged through and through. Petri dish left alone. The moss grows out of control. And before you know it the whole building is moss. They then turn it into a museum that shows the effects of nature without interference from humans. Nefarious, ruthless.

Communication efforts, high-rise wink, and a glare. A 65-foot story edifice built with the air that we breathed in. We took it too far. Maybe we didn’t take it far enough in the day. Maybe I accosted you. Maybe I don’t know what to say. Maybe I don’t know when to put off, or lay off, and just proclaim we’ve gone too far, Let’s delay the inevitable army coming to raze the buildings we built, The princesses we locked away in towers, in case someone dared to unravel the chains. Battle the dragons that lay in scales of brave souls that couldn’t contain. In the nest atop of the moat, intense guarding by alligators that haven’t eaten in weeks, That stare with listless bloodshot eyes, that peek over the callous, dry mud you feel safe from ever slipping on. I didn’t realize it’d be from the other side of the bar. Where we don’t speak to each other and know what we meant. That’s not what I planned. Not what I wanted to express, okay?

Have you ever experienced the glow of rising sun with someone so advanced in your fortress you let them break down the doors to your chamber? I was in six feet of water trying to breathe. Guide me, I’m weak. I’m not gonna lie, that night fucking broke me. I solemnly pray, calmly, or I solemnly pray somehow you could calm me. Ironic. Ionic. Electrical charge. Cation and anion, embellishing hardship. Arrhenius asserted that large compounds irreversibly form into smaller charged particles even without electrical current. This is called dissociation. It sounds like disassociation. I bet you, you weren’t expecting that. Wrote print my entire life and fell in love with your cursive. I still remember Philip Olivier. And I chuckle. Can you picture Philip Olivier? Hope my knees don’t buckle and shake, tucked into shapeless projections, and then crumble and break. I have a thousand thoughts in my head and don’t know what else to say. Someone just left the coffee shop I’m in. I wish them the best.

The world can’t be given to you by someone else

But they can make it a bit brighter

What they tell you is don’t be selfish

What they don’t tell you is be selfish with love

In your twenties.

Telling you right now, be selfish

I remember what your mom said

She wished she never left her first love, it’s a regret that she had

I don’t know if you know. Don’t ask

How I


Published by Cristian Leonardo Gajardo

Welcome to Cristian’s Cafe, a website where I showcase my various forms of expression and happiness. Here you can find poetry, podcasts, personal blogging, research articles, open mic, comedy, and art. Whether you are looking for inspiration, entertainment, or information, you will find something that suits your taste and mood. Enjoy browsing through my content and feel free to leave your comments and feedback. Please note that the Wi-Fi connection may be slow or unstable at times, so please be patient and look at the art instead. Thank you for visiting Cristian’s Cafe

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