Soft intentions, Sharp Goodbyes.

By Francis Figueroa

Tell me- was I ever more than just a fleeting thought?

A passing desire? 

A momentary indulgence in an afternoon already forgotten.



I traced the constellations on your skin, 

let my fingertips linger in the hollow of your throat,

where your pulse beats steadily-

unshaken, unbothered, untouched by me.


You kissed me like a promise

I watched the door close behind you,

watched my reflection in the window,

wondering if I had only imagined

that, for a moment, you held me

like I was something to be kept.

But I was never meant to be kept, was I?

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ENC1102 INFORMATIVE REPORT

By Francis Figueroa
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Begin Again

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