That Terrible Motel Room Poem by Jose Armando Guzman

That terrible motel room
holds so many memories
and broken dreams.
The walls are tainted with
lies,
deceptions,
and loss of hope.

There we were,
just you and I.
Searching for a balance.
Trying to taste the instincts
one last time.

I remember as
you sat on my lap
and you kissed my
neck and my lips.
We were trying to pretend
that this farce was
something more.
We were searching
for a purity that neither
of us will never know.

I made a promise that
I would write you one
hundred poems.
One hundred poems
in blood and tears.

The promise will be kept
inside my bones as
the night weeps for
your return.

I will burn a thousand
oaks and watch the flames
devour anything and
everything in that room.


The six packs were not
enough for you nor I.
We needed something
stronger to keep that
lie alive.

It was the darkness
in your eyes that invited
me to dream.
The intoxicating murmur
in your voice
that enthralled my thoughts.

There are no regrets
to this failed and miserable
story of lust.
Love is unknown to you
and I.
Its was the biting and
the bruising that captured
my being.

My lips are still raw
with your passion.
That soon will fade into
the night.

You are my shooting star.
Brilliant and brief.
My shooting star.

Each step to the
tiny apartment still
remembers and
calls out your name.
It is the way that
your hips sway
when you walk
and how you head
tilts to the left
when you talk.

That soon too
will be lost in the
bottles and the
ashes.

Your memory
will go up in smoke
and fade into
the night's sky.

The smoke will
taint the walls
of my mind
with the smell
and color of
your essence.

All will be forgotten
but the rest of my days
I will carry proud
the invisible traces
of your hands
on my body.

You are my shooting
star.
Brief and brilliant.
I closed my eyes
and sighed.
You were gone
with the sunrise.