I miss her body
Tightly entangled in mine
When we rest in bed
©️ 2018 Vic Romero
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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The Dangers of Looking Backward While Walking Forward
It’s easy to miss what lies ahead
If you’re always looking behind you instead
Yeah, you may be walking forward but by looking backward you’ll never know
All of the potential you have and how you can grow
It’s important to take risks once in a while
Even if you fail miserably, taking those risks are still worthwhile
Because you’re getting closer to your destination
And by standing back up, you’re building a strong reputation
Besides, not looking where you’re going is unsafe
You may trip and fall into your own grave
© 2014, 2018 Vic Romero
All Rights Reserved.
Happy graduation day!
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parasite
i relinquished my power to you and my better judgement at my expense because your so-called love and cheap affection caused my heart to pound against the bones in my chest and you felt my heart jumping when you caressed my breast but you chalked it up to being in the moment although my feelings for you ran and still run much deeper and i ignored the warning signs and continued running as the descent got steeper and it all caught up to me when i tripped and fell and tumbled to my doom maybe we just met too soon otherwise you may have been feeling the same way too…but you don’t. you never did. why did i think that you did? did you change your mind? it feels like you have just been manipulating me all this time…and it’s not okay. it’s not okay how you kept asking when i said “no” because i wasn’t going to change my mind at least not that night and it’s not okay how you reduced me to my body and it’s not okay for stringing me along leading me on convincing me that we’re something we’re not when you knew all along and you watched me comprised my wants and needs for this bullshit “friendship” like hell we were never friends and i’m still…unsure if i can keep trying to tie these loose ends don’t you see that you’re only hurting me why do i keep doing what you want you’re not the boss of me i want my fucking agency back because i’m tired of feeling mad and sad and anxious and scared this shouldn’t feel so hard and it shouldn’t hurt so much to cut you out you’re a parasite so get out of my sight get out get out get out
© 2016 Vic Romero
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playing games
all this is, is a fling
i remind myself as you grab my waist
all this is, is a fling
i repeat in my head as you hasten
to pull your shirt over your muscular back
allowing my fingertips to explore the expanse of your chest
inhibitions, we lack
all this is, is a fling
i feel the words form in my mouth
but then your tongue pushes its way in
knocking them out
your body forces me down onto your bed
your body covers mine
and you seek to pull apart my threads
all this is, is a fling
i grapple with the meaning of those words
because i constantly seem to forget
my heart subverts
these fucking words in my head
your lips are kissing and sucking down my body now
i’m so hot and turned on now
you’re torturing me
both physically and emotionally
why can’t you fucking stay?
why can’t you please fucking stay?
all this is, is a fling
i clench my teeth when i remember
that there is no future come the spring
because you’re leaving at the end of december
this is just a fling, Vic
i finally accept it
and every time i do, i feel sick
but then that feeling is quickly replaced with elation
© 2018 Vic Romero
All Rights Reserved
#repost
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Self-Portrait at Twenty-two
I.
A reflection
Of a forlorn face
In the grimy window
Of the bus as it creaks along.
I try my hardest to look beyond it
To look at the landscape as we drive along
But the grimy windows don’t seem to permit it.
II.
The white smoke escapes my lips
While black tar enters my lungs
I sigh, in bliss
My head buzzing and ears ringing
Enjoying the silence from the cold evening
The stillness
Later, I reenter the party
Mingle and mix with everybody
And smile because for this one night,
I’m not lonely
Even later, there are
Dark bedrooms and
Faceless bodies with
Forgettable names but
Regrettable moments
III.
An accident.
Blood…
Broken bones…
Barely breathing…
The absence of a heartbeat.
IV.
Relief.
In the form of a woman
Caramel skin and dark,
Almond-shaped eyes
A soft smile when her lips say my name
V.
The golden sunlight-
An unwelcome guest
Shines through the cracks
Of the closed blinds
Seeping through the thin skin
Of my eyelids
Making itself known
The sunlight illuminates the caramel skin
Of the woman wrapped in the sheets
Entangled in my limbs
Breathing soundly
Eventually, I succumb to its insistence
That I arise
I disentangle my limbs and
I welcome the sun
To this new day
Stretching my arms over my body
In salutation
Then folding over my feet
Bowing in respect
And appreciation
To be alive
© 2018 Vic Romero
All rights reserved.
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Quiting Smoking (Version 2)
We ignited quickly,
The sparks between us
Became consuming flames
We burned bright
On dark, cold nights.
It was refreshing
To inhale you
And to exhale loneliness
You may have been comforting,
But you weren’t good for me
You sucked out all my oxygen,
Filled my lungs with tar,
And singed my fingers.
I had held onto your fire
For far too long
So I let you go…
Dropped you to the ground
To find a way out
Of your ensnarement.
You were addictive, though.
A couple of days would pass,
But I could never last
For very long
Without your fire
© 2017 Vic Romero – Creative Writing Fall 2017
Read the original version of this piece here.
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over time
first
you will be dumbfounded
your heart will plummet
into the depths of your stomach
as the whole world before you
tumbles
as if the entire universe
was shoved into a dryer
spinning
steady yourself
on someone’s shoulder
first
then
when strangers
you haven’t seen
since you were a newborn
all cluster together,
solemnly murmuring
donning dark colors
touching the glossy wood
of the coffin
the magnitude of death
will feel heavy
you will
need to sit
and your aunt
will comfort you
then
later
when you call her up
because you start to forget her voice-
but the line has been disconnected
when her seat at the table for the holidays
is vacant
year after year
when her sister
has become an only child
when you get older
and she doesn’t-
the passing of time just means
that she’s been gone longer
you will understand
the finality of death
later
© 2017 Vic Romero – Creative Writing Fall 2017
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laborious thoughts
what
is life after college?
creation of visual art
creating your own brand
and poetry
that represents deeper issues and meanings
of the universe
while
you travel aimlessly
to create
to survive
to find your own purpose
on this grand, fucked up-
beautiful globe
do you turn to spiritual practices
to see more clearly
the beauty of the mess?
or
is it about
working nine to five
FULL TIME FULL TIME FULL TIME
MEDICAL BENEFITS
COMPETITIVE SALARIES
R E T I R E M E N T plans
so you can move out
of your small, carpeted childhood bedroom
and into a larger one
with hardwood floors
that you share with someone that looks at you
with stars in their eyes?
are there alternatives? what are they?
what do i want?
© 2017 Vic Romero
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roses smell when they rot
slowly,
slowly
you fall in slow-motion:
eyes wide
as you realize you are falling
and as your hand is ripped
out of mine
ruby lips agape
i’m entranced by the shock
that is spread across your face
the shock that you feign
because, c’mon-
we both saw this coming
but unlike you,
i opted to cross
the street and let you go
your head smacks the ground
splitting open like a juicy watermelon
the fresh flesh gushing out of the cracks
forming rivulets that crawl over the pavement
like red highlights in your hair
© 2017 Vic Romero
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healing
i guess
it was too much to hold together
i expected too much
i guess
the stitches had had enough
of sewing broken things back up
i guess
the threads were weak
i guess
the outcome was always going to be bleak
© 2017 Vic Romero
