Lost Memories of Him

The tang of pickled jalapenos lingers on my lips, making them poutier. When I met him, it was like an instant camera capturing a moment of pure love. His longing lips whispered a quiet hello in his native tongue, a dialect that warmed me. His love was unique, unlike any other. My heart unfolded like a hot burrito, and his looks smote me. Two years later, I find myself lost in this love. I am a poet. i am the forgotten book, i am the missing pages that were never publish i am me, that girl: nobody wants to talk too i am the missing link of what true love is all about i am that sour burrito, you regret eating