DOS GARDENIAS PARA TI

04. WHITE PT.II

     I should be reading my two hundred pages worth of text— and here I am, writing of you.
     How I tell the stars of you.
     Of your lack of grace, but soft appeal.
     Of how it takes you a second to process complex information,
     But ultimately nod and reach out to get the job done.

     I laugh with them when I say you grow infuriated by calculations,
    That you limit your ability to think by refusing to do the simplest of them.
     It's endearingly flawed and humane.
     I tell them how I see only but a child made of pure cane.

     We're so different, I think I've established that enough,
     But it's comforting to see someone as emotional as you.
     In a world where emotional constipation is praised and romanticized,
     I find comfort in knowing you're more than capable of using that pulsing heart of yours.
     Your intellect surpasses that of the greatest physicists and mathematicians,
    For what good is a mind that cannot process the most complex subject of all?
    Emotions.

     I cannot write you a poem at the moment,
     Time limits my ability to think critically and artistically to express what I feel for you
     So prose will do.
     But know my thoughts are on you right now.
     They have been.

     "I thought it was something urgent," you smiled.
     "No— well yes, I needed to give you your present. It's a month late, but I was cracking my head trying to perfect it— I'm sorry it took so long."
     "It's the thought that counts—"
     "No, thoughts aren't enough."

     We both walked to our destination, as we did, you kept on fixing your skirt, going on a tangent on how you needed better clothes.
     All I could do was smile as I heard you complain of useless things.
     Like a child, I was captivated by your presence and I couldn't find the flaws that you did.

     "The poetry book— I read it all in a sitting"
     "But I thought you can't read for long periods of time—"
     "I know! But it's poetry so I guess that helped. Though beware, I didn't realize how romantic it'd be so just—"
     You only smiled and began to eat, as though not needing to hear the rest.
     As though you knew that I only meant well.
     "I highlighted the parts that made me think of you. . . You know, self-care, self-love, and all," I cleared my throat as I took a bite out of our shared food.
     You called me by my name, your eyebrows creasing as your eyes softened.
     "I tried to make it special— I suck at gift giving."
But there was this child-like smile in you—
So lively, so innocent, so sincere.

      I continuously feared the moment we'd depart through that day
     I promise you it's not codependency, simply
     Being around you is comforting, more than you know
     It silences the thoughts that continuously cycle
     Since whenever it was last that we spent time together.
     It gives my mind the rest it needs.
     The peace.

     I suggested times and places I'd be the next day, told you:
     "Do what you will with that information"
     And dropped it.
     I didn't want to exhaust you,
     To appear excessively clingy as
     I know you hate that—
     So I hopelessly refrained.
     But you texted me the next day, asking where I was
     Saying you wanted to study together.
     To my delight, I immediately replied;

     "It drains me," you whispered, pastry in hand.
     "I think I'm the epitome of being an introvert—"
     "I respect that," I shrugged, playing with the noddles of my own plate of food. We were just starting
     To get to know each other.
     "I don't even see my girlfriends every week- every other week, maybe."
     "I don't see anyone at all," I responded with a smile.
     "Why is that?"
     "I've got no good friends."

     Two years later and I find myself overwhelmed with the constant texts and notifications
     "Please take care of yourself"
     "Please sleep well"
     "Please eat"
     "Please make time for yourself"
     I appreciate all the love and care I've gotten by these friends,
      Old— new— rekindled
     They are reminders that I must be easy on myself
     But among all, yours is the voice that brings peace to me the most:
     "You're working too hard," you sucked on your teeth disapprovingly. "Poor you"
     I smiled as I rubbed my eyes tiredly
     "I can handle it, really"
     "I don't doubt it. But please eat"
     "I will"
      "And sleep"
     "Mhm"
     You give me that worried gaze, as if doubting I wouldn't
     "I will—"
     "You better. I'll take care of this, you go and do something easier"

     "I hope I don't ever drain you as much— please make time for yourself," I said as I took a bite out of my Yakisoba.
      "If I want to hang out and you're not in the mood, it's fine, just let me know," I smiled.
      You smiled and shook your head, holding the pastry with your napkin as holding it with your bare tips overstimulates you.
     "You're more extroverted aren't you?"
     "Yes," I replied. "But I gravitate more towards introverts. Extroverts irritate me."
     You laughed.
      "They do. I can't tolerate their loudness," I jokingly smiled.

      At the end of the day, we couldn't see each other.
     I went a day without seeing you,
     But felt twice the excitement to see you in the morning.
     "I don't know why I thought I'd see you earlier,"
     I said as I looked at you.
     "I was so tired coming in but I said, 'she'll be there to glee over'."
     You pout-fully smiled.
     "But you weren't," I sighed
     It's funny to me how much I look forward to seeing you.
     Not even twenty four hours have passed and I want to
     See your smile one more time.
     That smile—
     That smile.
     That smile.

     "I've got a plan for Monday— we go to the gym—"
     "The gym?!" You groaned.
     "The gym! Listen, it'll be good for us—"
     And then all time stopped!
     Thunder must've struck some part of the world
     Right then and there— I swear it.
     And the earth must've shaken at some other part
     Of the world too while seas parted in another!
     I imagined a star being born
     Just as a catastrophic supernova dying to fuel it with resources.
     The tilt of your head— the twinkle of your eye—
     Your lips stretching from side to side,
     Your rosy cheeks, even the contrapposto—
    Engraved that exact moment into my memory.
    That gaze— so soft and gentle
     And playful. . .
     I felt my heart stop then and there,
     My pupils dialing .
     Even the world reacts to your beauty.

"We all talk about the male gaze but have you all heard of the female gaze? It's a thing women do
For men to abide to them.
A gaze so strong but gentle
It makes a man feel warm inside
It tells them: "I want you".
And when a man shows interest,
When a man acknowledges this gaze,
The woman will so cleverly look into his eyes,
Focusing on his pupils,
Trying to find a mirror in them.
For in the pupils you'll find
That a man's desire will never lie."

     I looked away, unable to hide the blush that was growing
     Fuck, fuck, fuck
     "Do we have to go to the gym?"
     "Yes— don't make excuses."
     "Fine."
     "And then after that we can go and eat— and watch that film we said," I smiled, trying to hide my emotions.
     Emotions you remind me that I have
     You did that high pitch squeal that you always do whenever you feel cornered,
     And all I can do is look into my reflection seen on the screen.
     Noticing just how black my eyes seemed.