Unwritten

Sandra Dolores, Mexico

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1 I am not writing about your blue fingertips, cold froth against my skin that night of January.

2 Nor am I writing of the small horizontal scar on your nose tip, a memory of your first childhood home.

3 I do not write about your deep voice late at night, a warm bolt of tenderness that pierces through my shattered body.

4 Nor do I write of your ghost, a burst of amber light that silently haunts my empty bed.

5 I am writing of this thing I feel inside—this thing that fills my chest with fires that I do not know if I will ever be capable of extinguishing.

Poet, interpreter, and young researcher. English major at Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Her work has been published in both online and print media. She is currently working on her first poetry book, titled "Nuestros cuerpos fueron ola" (Our bodies were a wave).