Featured in the 2023 Winter Issue of Rambunctious
By Alessio Vega, ’23
Who are you, coming in so close, so close you might scare me away…
I think I might know you. That — reminds me of walks along a shore. That —,
like apple pies and cinnamon, like all of the warm things of the world… Your
hands are in your pockets though, in sharp contrast to the — I used to
remember on mine. I think of what could be in your pockets, what you could be
holding onto as well. I think of tickets and — and grocery lists and poems. A
garden of ephemera crinkled in your jeans. And The pulse of your step as you
walk, like the beat of your heart against mine. All of this is so familiar and
yet… your eyes, I cant see your eyes though. I cant see if there bright or
clouded. Your expression, I cant see your expression, It’s all blurry. Are you
sad? Are you — ? Are you confused? What does your face look like? I do not
recognize it. All of these little things I remember… But still, I do not know —.
Who are —? You smell like cinnamon and you remind me of the sea… but who
are —? You remind me of long conversations and old secrets shared, but I do
not know . You remind me of what it used to feel like to be warm, like fire
this — between us burned… and burned. But now I look at —and feel
suffocated, I’m drowning. We are no longer on the shore but pulled apart by
the tidal waves …… But now you’re getting so close… too close…
so close you might scare me away…..