Weekly poem on Trump Presidency
Dreaming With My Eyes Open
There is a life away from guns and egos. Pure like the freshest of waters.
Headphones on and I take a trip into this fairytale.
Enchanted at all of its wonders.
I find myself asking if I can stay but the answer is made of two letters, bearing crushed dreams and cold bricks.
Please don't slip away.
Please tell me that the lights will shine bright, illuminating the city with iridescent roads and walkways.
That the meaning of the skyscrapers will not change like the meaning of your first loves name once the sparks fade.
Sucker for love, sucker for all that is good.
But this world diminishes all that is magical.
It is all ensued with no price although we are forced to think that we have to pay.
I am still very much in love with the city.
Fascinated by the curves in the faces and the idiosyncrasies that come along with them.
False faces dominate these places and they make it hard for me to hope because I've never been one to fake it.
Urges to shout, urges to leave.
Remember magical moments in the spring where it was hard to breath.
Inhaling, exhaling perfectly since.
Goosebumps are few and far between.
Feels like there hasn't been a spring since.
Jherson Colon was born in the Dominican Republic and raised in Boston, Massachusetts. He began writing in high school. His work is heavily influenced by the priceless emotions that come along with following your heart, in addition to the suffering that has been imprinted on him while growing up in the inner city and working through tough experiences. Thus, love and pain tend to be his main forms of inspiration. In speaking his truth, his hope is that readers draw inspiration from his writing to find their own true voice, and pursue any desire or dream– even when the possibilities of achievement are not physically evident at the time.