Halt Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

One of the nights that
I fear the most,
The blight exacerbates
There is no remedy to this
The apothecary sleeps
In the desert deep,
Where the scorch is maladroit,
And my presence is zilch –
Oh, how I wish to be one with the stars,
So at night, you would come to worship me
As if one with your world of expatriation towards
My own piece of stillness - your treason muses far and wan,
Do you think of me still?
In the fuming seconds of the night?
The effervescent silence that goes off astray
In the morning’s ruckus and banter?
I do not know how, maybe as gullible as I am
I am finagled into believing
That at times, in the tethered longing,
You think of me, do not ask me,
I think about you, as though I have lived
And thrived in a forest of nostalgia
That beguiles me into your eyes
Where I spend most nights alone, desolate
By the prickly protruded eyelashes
It’s as if, your soul is water,
And my desire is fire
No matter how I fan the irascible flame
Of my rummaging desire towards you,
We are still immiscible,
And no prayers, no vows could alter
The obscured stagnancy
Of your world apart from mine.
Here I am, halting
Feigning that the famished squall
In me has receded -I only halt myself, darling,
In the duress of my own spawning saudade
For I have deluded myself in the context
Of your lips touching mine,
Your feet walking towards mine road and twine
As if the twilight stops
And we are trapped in a skyline of
Thousand equinoxes –
But all of this must ebb,
For one must halt
To stop the gushing of blood
That clogs the city
Inside of me.