Gia Raquel

He is written in this quiet way that absolutely bewitches me.

There’s this light in his eyes that remind me of that little girl looking in the mirror,

Wondering if she’ll ever fall in love.

Like a lazy grin on forgotten smiles,

The air is different up here.

Rough cheeks fill my hands,

Little freckles scattered.

He sees me

How I’ve always wanted to see myself.

My, it’s beautiful.

I have developed a fear of losing him,

As if he’ll look at me just as my mother sees my father.

The lightning remains in the dark sky,

Our faces are soaked,

But the instruments play.

The words spill over puddles.

I remember Abuelo dancing to ghosts,

The suns sets, the world melts at its touch.

I fear I’ll forget this.

I looked up and saw him,

Lines etched in his face, regardless of his youth.

Wild curls brushing cheeks with stubble.

He tasted like Astoria,

I had never felt such a longing for home.