My Poetry: He Calls Me Mi Amor by Isabelle Hernandez

He Calls Me Mi Amor

Oh, pero when he’s a liar, you can always tell
He’ll say mami, mamita, mi amor
But your name is something he don’t know
He uses compliments, butter on warm bread
And it’s up to you if you let him melt
His beard is perfectly trimmed
because he likes himself pretty like the girls he chases
And it’s as if I should be flattered
by his unvaried words
as if I should lay back and accept his tongue.

But the truth is that he doesn’t know the tune of my heart
He knows nothing but the curves under a dress
He knows nothing of my thoughts
And the complications of a hardened soul
He plays flutes I cannot hear
When he says he misses me I know it’s lies
because he’s hoping I am warm bread

But he doesn’t realize that I know his little game
When he calls me mi amor
My eyes roll in my head
And even if I fucked him
I’d be hoping he leaves when limp
So I can finally get to work
Play the tune that my fingers know
Desire a man who holds my thoughts
Without crushing me in calloused hands
Like a fluttery bird freed to the wind
Allowed to discover or come back if I wish


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