Book Of Firsts: First River Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

It was a sunny winter
How ironically crafted,
And debonairly destructed.
The penumbra of your visage
Undulates – a promontory lunge.
I called you over the phone,
And unraveled my wounds,
I was as mawkish as a candlelit caravan
Of insatiable lovers.
I told you I missed you,
And my caprice was very obnoxiously
Amenable.

You broke it off gently,
Like how one preserves the silver veneer
Of a present during the Eve of whatever
Gala as it looms over the horizon
Of clouds with delving faces.
You told me you were leaving for New Jersey,
And I was terrified my whole life,
And thought about how many more
Bloodcurdling departures must happen
Until you are fully pledged to be mine
Like a jeweler loves his own diamond.
And I had no choice but to let you
Cut the vicious skyline into two,
Sifting parts – black and white.
And I had nothing to do,
But let the first river, the vast rivulet
Pour out of my eyes.