A Moment In Six Lines

Suddenly, not too many years ago everything in my life had fallen apart which in fact was the best thing that ever happened to me, even though I weirdly hated every single moment of it, everything was back to normal. He looked at me, in the same way he always did, his classic way of slyly keeping a record of all the occupants of the room, not that he was obsessed with it but I'd call it his way of noticing the ones noticing him, women of course, while I gazed at him in surprise. 

He got up from his chair and walked towards me, leaving behind a group of four to five people at his table, his colleagues I suppose, with a glass in his hand, definitely Whiskey on the rocks, startling me since I wasn't expecting him to have any conversation with me, while I took the last sip of the delicious wine a friend of mine ordered for me, by far the best I had ever had. As confusing as this sounds, I was too dazed to process what was happening when I stood up just to find myself in his embrace, not wanting to let go as if it wasn't unusual, not that I didn't hug other people, but it felt so familiar.

As we broke physical contact, that seemed like an eternity, I looked into his hazel eyes, one of his assets that I fell for, keeping me captivated, even though I couldn't get the fact that he'd grown quite muscular out of my head. The last thing I remember is his lips parting away from mine, leaving me in doubt whether it was a 'Hello' or a 'Goodbye', as he turned around and everything seemed like a dream, too good to be true, that played in my head ever since we last kissed.

If I were an insect

If I drink a magic potion and become an insect, 
Not for many days I’d get to live. 
I’d pray for this time to be totally perfect, 
All my strength and energy throughout I’d give. 


For this short period that I’d stay, 
All I would think of is to eat, sleep and mate. 
Wonder which species I’d be, 'but hey', 
All insects are the same, they aren’t difficult to relate.


In my life cycle, I’d first be an egg, 
Then I’d grow until antennae come out of my head. 
But in a few hours I’d be big enough for a peg, 
Soon you’ll find that I’m already dead. 


My grandma would tell me about the beetles and the bugs, 
How brave they were to enter rooms with fake light. 
How they feared to be the frog's dinner, 'oh shucks', 
But once they enter the bright white light, they never take another flight. 


Curiosity would lead me to the mystery of their death, 
A path full of obstacles, I’d first have to cross the net. 
A fog of harmful gas would almost take away my breath, 
I wouldn’t go inside to see what’s worse I bet. 


As I write this poem an insect just sat on my page, 
Oops! I simply shut my book; it’s squished in brown enzyme. 
Flying around like them is worse than being in a cage, 
At least you get some space in there, sometimes freedom is a crime. 


‘An insect’s life isn’t that tough’, is easy to comment, 
But in this world of insecticides, their life is toughest to protect. 
Within this unpredictable planet that’s the way my life would end, 
If I drink a magic potion and become an insect.