The way we love and we lose

So easily and simultaneously.

MY fault isn’t with love,

Nor with losing love,

It is with death.

He takes and takes but never gives,

Takes advantage,

Takes hope,

Takes motivation,

Takes faith,

Takes peace,

Takes my greatest loves,

Takes my soulmates,

Takes and takes and takes.

I am close with death,

He is like a member of my family at this point—

Tio death.

I know his face so well.

No es para sonar melancholia ni na,

But it’s true.

One of my first memories was at a funeral.

Most of my best friends have died.

I feel like I can’t get close to anyone,

Especially in my family anymore,

Because I’m too afraid of losing them.

I mean, I know they’re going to die eventually—

Everybody does, right?

I love talking to old people.

One of my favorite childhood memories

Was hearing stories from my great grandparents,

Uncles, and aunts

From when they were young.

It made me excited to get older.

They always have the best stories,

The best sense of humor,

And the wisest advice.

But I can’t seem to shake my fear

In creating a connection—

How uncomfortable I get with intimacy

If we get that deep.

I’m scared I’ll lose you.

Death, you’ve taken my favorites,

So many celebrities I will never get to see in concert,

So many questions I won’t ever get to ask my guela.

I haven’t called my grandpa in like 2 months—

My grandpa that raised me,

And would always buy ice cream,

Have ice cream parties with me and my brother,

When we would get sad or miss our parents.

The man who held me tight

When we lost the most amazing woman in our world—

My soul friend,

My safe space,

Both of them.

I’m scared,

Scared to form bonds with people,

Because what about when they die too?

I can’t go to another freaking funeral—

The smell of powder and old people perfume,

And the “They were the nicest person I ever met”

Makes me sick.

I run from commitment,

Yet I get attached so easily,

All at the same time.

Death has introduced me to cancer,

Disease,

Addiction,

And heartbreak—

All before the age of 15.

I don’t remember the last time I can say

I was truly happy.

It’s like death stays playing tricks with me—

Every time I think I’m getting better,

Death strikes again.

Death, I wish you could just give me more time.

Just one last hug,

One last birthday,

One last BBQ,

One last Christmas,

One last Reyes,

One last baseball game,

One last salsa festival,

One last time in PR,

One last “I love you,”

One last “Bendición, te quiero mucho,”

One last “Que vayas con Dios y la virgen, hija,”

One last sobito,

One last head massage,

One last consejo,

Just one last,

“Fui pal Mercado a comprar carne,

No encontré aquí, ni aquí,

Ni tampoco por aquí, pero por aquí…”

Let me get teased by my viejos one last time, please,

With all these last times,

Maybe time will never stop

And I don’t have to say goodbye forever,

And I can have more time

For crazy stories, memories, and bonds.

If you won’t give me one last time,

Damn, could I at least receive collect calls from heaven?

Because I can’t keep loving and losing.

Death, you know I don’t know how to let go, please.