The Boyfriend Checklist

5

Just by reading the title of the poem, Gemma was already praying she wouldn't burst into a fountain of tears right where she was seated.

"If You Forget Me. . ."

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Even the voice inside her brain was shaking, as if she was reading the words out loud. There was something in her throat that was making it hard for her to speak. Perhaps the words that wanted to escape her mouth would be the reason why she couldn't swallow her own saliva.

"Of all the poems of Pablo Neruda, why this?" Gemma asked in a weak tone.

"I liked what I read," Harvey shrugged. "As what he stated, if little by little you stop loving me, I shall stop loving you little by little."

"I think it's the other way around."

He raised Gemma's paper near his face. "So tell me why you like this. . . The Kiss by Sara Teasdale."

I hoped that he would love me,
And he has kissed my mouth,
But I am like a stricken bird
That cannot reach the south.

For though I know he loves me,
To-night my heart is sad;
His kiss was not so wonderful
As all the dreams I had.

"It speaks about the modern romance women experience nowadays," she grinned. "Kissing someone you dearly love isn't as beautiful as what you think--in reality."

"Well that's a lil ruthless. . . "

"Truth hurts."

"Aren't you a bit harsh on the guy?"

"Not really. He's the bad guy after all? Maybe he just kissed her because he felt sorry for her?"

"That is a one-sided explanation. You don't know the man's side."

"I'm sure he was given a chance to explain his side. Too bad he wasted that chance."