I don't need to do that anymore

I hear my name on that killing floor,

Hand in hand with a Mexican whore.

Chop the bumps in a bathroom stall,

Take that stylish drink, and screw them all.

The things I do, you can't explain.

As your dress falls, all you'll do

is ask for more and I'll forget your name.

I see my reflection, a thousand times,

On that disco ball.

But I don't see you.

I don't need to do that anymore.

copyright 2015 salvador cordova

Share My Bed

It’s one more night alone.

If you think you got time to spare,

I wish you would,

Lay beside me I wish you would.

Breathe in my memories,

Drink my tears.

Wash away the dirt that is my name.

When you share my bed,

You share my shame.

Copyright 2008 Salvador Cordova

Corner coffee shop

And to think years ago you didn't even know I existed. I would ride my bicycle every morning by the window of the corner coffee shop just to watch you take one maybe two sips of the Italian blend coffee you now make me drive 20 minutes out of my way twice a week to buy for you. I watched him hold my dream. I watched him ignore you, then lose you. The progression from sitting closely like lovers to sitting across the table like marriage to eventually a large booth like business with only the cold of regret and loneliness between the both of you.The morning he wasn't there I stopped what I thought was right in front of you and watched you sip an entire cup of coffee. Alone. What a novice, a loser I was then. You didn't even know I existed. Still, as I watched your lips moisten with the heat of the coffee then, I knew you were my sole existence.

copyright 2015 Salvador Cordova