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Hands on Another

I grew you a garden but you didn’t like the dirt on my hands.—Mt

By Alexia VillanuevaPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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I never knew what pain was till I fell so much in love with someone who’s affection laid in the hands of another.—Mahin Ismail, heartache.

You said everything

you wanted to say

like sex was your

food

As though secrets

became bullets

don't tell me

you love me

when your hands

are one

someone else's body.

The way your hands

captivate a knife

that burns off

the fear that love

is a fake feeling

like my body was trophy

in fencing case

The way your words

slither on the curves

of my body, or the

way my spanish

tongue insultes the

blackness you

refuse to carry.

You should have

never told me you

loved me because

maybe fear smells

like the remains

of shallow heart,

smelling the shame

you perfumed

on my body

You only wanted

one thing.

The virtute a woman

carries on her sleveve

in the pit of her stomach

made of stone and white cotton

like perfected dove.

I'm still pure...I fell

in love were fear

is the remains that

the words I love you

are the exlir

as my tapestries

untangles

As your eyes still wander

over the body you judged,

the lips you silently

kissed as swans danced

in unsion.

The fear is the breakup

that reveals itself in text behind

curtains, the way the words

cut into my skin like samba

I never loved you frying

my heart on the camale

like a burnt tortilla.

But the difference is my

fear isn't love but

you were mistake as

someone else became

blessing.

yet I learned to love myself

when you couldn't

I no longer fear

your water-downed words

bc I never knew love like

my childhood

love poems
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