Emmanuel Flores

I Asked You to Paint a Portrait of Me, So You Asked Me to Write a Portrait of You
by Emmanuel Flores

My fresh palette; our dying
conversation about being alive, for you
it was the bands no one listened to,

not even themselves, and love was a pizza

four hours cold with a slice

missing, waiting for you

asleep with the neons
of the night of a shitty pale town
everybody passes through never

seeing a hotel. They found you

there in the street dancing and yelling

and falling and noticing that the grass was

never green, with the hues of the dirt and the snow
and crushed beer cans in between, you
lay in it all, spilling your dress’s thrift

shopped red and the sleepless blue

of your eyes, their bags hiding the choked sex

you like so much, but the night’s tired

too, and there’s no hotel
around, and your pizza’s getting cold,
and your music’s running out, so you go

back to your books, back to your paint, looking

at me then back at your canvas as I

look at you then back at these

words as I write them asking,
how will I ever find you?

Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 17, Issue 1.

Emmanuel Flores
Emmanuel Flores is currently an undergraduate student at Salisbury University and is an Assistant Editor for the poetry section of the school’s Scarab Literary Magazine.

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