Bloody Imprints 

The imprint you left on my cheek, 

bleeds 

open-wounded by your sharp tongue,

your harsh words that left me tongue-tied

When I spoke though, I spat true words,

the only words that I could conjure but 

you shot them down:

“damn lies,” you called them 

These moist walls keep renewing 

your ghost-like presence with

the bitter saliva of it slowly melting my 

taste buds into infinity holes 

Is that what you wanted, 

to leave me like a broken-winged bird?

you were always so selfish and now,

you’ve rid me from tasting any other love but

Yours.

- Christian Benavides

Cold Bones

   I realize you’re running with the wolves
  Into the midnight- 
 Our time, where I held your hand tight
As you cried, “It hurts to love you” 

There was a time where Maps
 Were written in stars not states,
  Eyes were not lost but free, 
   Paths were not paved but destroyed

   I showed you such a map, 
  With no clear directions
 As there were no planned destinations
But places, waiting to be explored

We spent the summers in bed,
 Our sweaty bodies content laying 
  Next to each other
   -Those were the best times of our lives

   Those nights you spent laughing 
  Drawing red hearts around constellations,
 Pushing your hair back behind your ear 
And sighing out milky ways of uncertainty 

Those red hearts of cherry lipstick, 
 The strands of black hair- 
  Kept stuck in my pockets
   Kept me gravitating- for a Time 

   But now I sit on this bed
  These summer nights-
 Weighing down on me
Onto this mattress imprinted with your body

I had many places to go, 
 Named some after you
  But now they sit bare-
   Shriveled and broken down

   These four walls, 
  They saw the solar systems we drew on each other
 Tried to contain them and keep us grounded-
Now they sag like deflated balloons 

“I can feel your bones,” you said the last night
 While you caressed my ribs. 
  With your infinity eyes, that 
   Kept me lost for days 

   God, my only wish- 
  To have felt your bones that night
 To have kept a memory of them, so 
My bones, my cold bones, would stop shaking. 

By Christian Benavides