Filo Oporto

That endless space between us— unreachable,

like your skin in the morning.

Sometimes he's the night, and I'm the sun. Sometimes I'm the day, while he's the moon.

I want to have dates with your heart. I want to frequent it, To the point it’ll stop Fucking with us.

Perhaps, It’s jealous of us, All alone in your big chest, Sometimes feeling me— Breathing, moaning.

He said, ‘I’m addicted to you.’ I don’t want to go.

again.

again.

When you break your heart, remember— you’ve broken it yourself enough times to know how to heal.

Next time you look for me, I swear, my love, I’ll be loving someone else.

Maybe that tousled French boy from Barcelona, or the Spanish girl I met in Italy.

You’ll search for my smile, and my arms to hold your childish, sorrow-heavy body.

But I won’t be there.

And still, even if I’m with an Argentine from the Archipelago,