purgatorio donde todavía te amo

i’m trying to find raul zurita’s purgatory

to find that one part: iloveyou, oveyouil, 

how does it go? our teacher loved that part.

i want to send her an email with that as the

subject and send a new poem i found.

it’s aracelis girmay. loisforeribari. love is

for everybody. i’m trying to let people in 

to love me more. i’m sending all the poetry

i can think of, devouring it daily this Ramadan.

when i open the doc about raul zurita from last year,

all the notes i left are from [DELETED USER] so maybe

we really have grown up. i’m talking to all these

people you don’t know, and they’re the ones i miss 

daily now. we are all just [DELETED USER] in each others’

lives. veyouilo. i still do. it’s something like zurita 

said. it’s all jumbled up (isfoeribarilo). i am at home,

in the bed i spent all of last year in and even though

it’s gray, it’s not jersey gray. it’s white gray like

it’s a little easier to breathe. i don’t know. i still can't

breathe a little. i thought coming back to this

bed, i’d relax. i’m relaxing, but i still sometimes

wake up in a panic like i did last year, with my

stomach all in knots and my heart all [DELETED USER]

and knowing youilove and i don’t know how to talk 

to you anymore, even though i wrote all my poetry about you.

you sent me a birthday gift, but i can’t say i know 

because i’m not in jersey right now, and i didn't tell 

you i was coming home. if you came home, 

you wouldn’t tell me either, so i try not to 

feel guilty, even though i do because oveilyouil.

I feel like [DELETED USER] in everyone’s life, i guess, 

which is why i’m sending all this poetry, being so

open, even though it's not my nature. loisforeribari. 

it hurts to grow up, i kept saying it last year, and it’s

still true. how do we reconcile? oncilerec? will

putting it in a new order make it hurt any less? 

i am home, but i guess i’m not really home anywhere 

i go. love is home, but love changes. i’ve changed.

[DELETED USER], (USER DELETED), {TEDDEL ERUS}. 

it sounds like latin. i still miss how things were and i’m still

glad that they’ll never be that way again. it’s like 

even though iloveyou, love is for everybody but me.