Memories Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I twist in my bed,

Deathly prance across cotton, pillow, dreams of sugar

Scented so vile, profusely rummaging in a harsh force -

Your memories.

-

I recoil

Yet, like a rusting gun that yields

The bullet’s tears and fears -

Alongside, toppling memories.

-

A hollowed sepulchral cry

In the middle of the night blemishes

The moon beam’s kindling touch -

Sever me with your memories.

-

Perhaps to live,

Is to die in the pretentious breath

Of the cloaked Sun, and the woman I have lost together with

Her memories.