I know how to cross

my heart

use the telephone

to connect to myself again

but I cannot be someone I am not.

At the Palacio Royal

you told me about King Carlo III

I told you about the Wheat Kings

you told me

let’s run with the bulls baby

but I pulled you into my body instead

and we lost the frenzied crowd

in the centre of Pamplona.

One morning we woke up

with nothing but sand

on our bodies

at La Concha

I wondered how

we didn’t get

arrested or caught

but we were always good liars.

We stood in front of

The Aqueduct of Segovia

felt like tiny rocks along a beach

this monument provided all the water

once upon a time

and you bit the side of my neck

with all the trivia

forgotten on my spine.

Your history became a part of mine.

Your dark eyes

sharp tongue

would not let me rest

as the sun set

on so many of us

on the shores of Ibiza.

I hope you liked your tour

your eyes soaked in mine

muchos gracias

because the world was different then

in ways that

no youth can comprehend

I never saw you again

for you are someone I am not

a love I buried along with the

sand on my skin.

7 thoughts on “Someone I am not

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