Chasing Paris

I like you,
then I don’t.
I will give my world,
until I won’t.
I’m a moving vehicle,
and anything that holds on
to something in motion
will only get dragged against
the floor until their limbs
fall off and they are only
left with abrasions.
Don’t fall in love with me.
I’m a moving vehicle.
No matter what I say,
you are not a destination,
you are only a stopover.
Please stay away.


Erika Rabara. @mademoisellerika

You told me you it wouldn’t hurt,
because there would be something
to support the fall;
but when I fell to your abyss,
all that was there was a cushion
where I expected a hand.
It would hurt less if there was only floor.
At least then, I could comfort myself
with the thought of being forgotten
rather than rejected.
I should have known.

As if you only existed
to let me know
that a mess
can be clean
and that
a mess can be
beautiful, as well

i. I hope you like puzzles. Did you play them as a child? I wish you had, so your knobs won’t have to adjust. Or if you never did, it’s okay. I think everyday is sufficient enough to learn. Everyday is a puzzle with me. I hope I do not become responsible for the burden of your frustrations or your frowns. I hope I never hear you sigh with the dread of the world. I hope you solve me everyday.

ii. I hope Scrabble doesn’t bore you. I hope you like words. I hope you feel the need to beat me in this game. I hope you will challenge me. In fact, I hope you defeat me. I hope my eyes never see you settle for ten points, I hope to see you thrive. Tell me that you care. Tell me that you love me in words that score twice as much as mine.

iii. I hope you don’t think of this as a chore. But I can be a mess. Literally, figuratively, actually. You can do two things: you can clean up after me, or you can be a mess with me. I’m not sure which one I like better during that day, because I’m moody; I hope you know me enough to know what to do when things get bad.

iv. I hope you read every single word. I hope you didn’t skip to the end. If we will be together, I will be ranting. More than you would like me to and more than what I think is healthy. But I would like you to listen, even if I’m not making sense, even if I become boring, and most especially if I’m making a fool out of myself.

v. I hope you’re not a fictional character. I hope you’re real and alive and breathing. You may be with someone else now. But time will come. In God’s perfect time.