So Long Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I saw the fair complexion of the sea,
And the frigid skin of the city, where
I contemplated about heaven and its spears
Of light that I long to see – but they will never
Permit me there, for I am puny, and frail,
And even the wind causes my skin to ache
For I am as fragile as a glass filled to the brim
By misery and insensitivity

And the words, “So long, lover.”
Resonate inside my ears like souls lunging
Upon bodies worth consuming –
But then so long, yes, I took it like mine own self
And yes so long, lover seems so long
For to forget – there is really no oblivion, am I right?
Only to famish, only to grieve, only to take loss
And dine with it, dance with it, even make love to it
In the blank hours of the night’s incredulous air

So long, lover, she said
Poised, as the serrated grass continues to sever
The air, the vicious glades – look, the tapestry
It floats amid her sweet scent,
And look at me, battered by a corner –
I am at a loss for comparisons and words,
For there is a lambaste that is too scornful
Upon one’s squalid tongue, and too sharp
For one’s blunted mind, and so I have wavered
And given up on trying to describe how my loneliness is,
For my loneliness, is loneliness, embodied in a form of a human

And look at the portrait bleeding madly, profusely,
As if swathing me with such crimson vile,
Help, I wailed to the Gods, save me, or at least,
Then take me to a great perhaps.

“So long, lover.” One long thrust of breathing,
Breathing is as painful as dying, though I do not know how to die,
Because there is something at the back of my vapid fantasy,
That is surreal, like the words of a dream, bounded in a book –
Or the wasted tears that froze by a small brook,
There, just there at the middle, something tells me,
Though faltering in hope, and fumbling in speech,
That one day, with one spectral ray,
Hope would come, and there will be no pain,
But it never promised another love,
Another fortune, it promises a mending heart, yes,
But never another lover,
For in seeking another lover, is but futile
For my heart, maybe some others have it too,
That in one life time, there is only one heart to give,
I would not like to say this, but then,
I think I may have wasted it in one life time,
But I do not resent – maybe, just maybe,
Bliss is within reach, with mine hand to hold, with mine other.