the high school chinito boy

Visualizing the booth, a certain marriage booth,
on the ground, idle longing of two youngsters

Recaptured the memory, credited glory,
speculating the future, the juvenile minds
revolve around a cube, ironic---the strangeness

It has 4 dots, those points to stop,
to sense, and consider tomorrow
More liberating days to come, but a tomb
that serves a complex ache, one hurting relation

At this time, an excess longing ought to go
Inside the memoirs of a child whenever with you
Early years of mine with you, forgotten by the memory
and hated by the heart

I write the worse I can ever say
But not yet for the worst