In Memory of Pedro by Abba Moreno

In Memory of Pedro

By: Abba Marie Moreno

 

Pedro was a valiant knight;

he fought his last battle well.

 

I can still smell the sweet summer

evening I entrusted him to you,

a gift for our first anniversary

(with a bouquet of lipstick-red roses).

Your eyes spelled out burning infatuation

and poured out cold droplets of joy.

I kissed you amidst the candlelit glow

of the planned perfection for the evening.

We were so in love.

You asked me why I gave you a teddy bear:

to keep the monsters away while you sleep.

(You thought it sweet, I was jesting.)

You blushed a little and smiled radiantly.

(Ah, I never forgot that candlelight smile of yours.)

You made an eager promise to keep

the stuffed bear by your bed each night.

                                    You were so in love.

Let’s name him: Pedro.

 

A man once told me

that the hardest things to let go of

were the things you never really had.

We weren’t as in too deep as we thought, Mary.

I was in love with the perfection that was us.

You were in love with an image in the mirror

that you thought that was me.

We had to end it.

 

But I never understood why

you had to involve Pedro with ‘us’.

I raced towards your apartment

after the phone call from your sobbing mother.

It was a dreary day drenched in October showers.

Her trembling finger pointed towards your bedroom

(I retraced my steps from the nights I spent over).

I saw your lifeless form bent crookedly on the floor

and sprawled on a pool of your once-precious blood.

You put a bag over your head and cut your throat.

The mirror read: I don’t want you to see me like this.

(All you are now is a candlelight smile.)

 

The room was a magnificent mess:

embellished with the torn sheets and ripped curtains

adorned with walls that bled curses in lipstick

and sprinkled with shards of colored glass and porcelain.

(I’ve always disliked your unkemptness.)

My eyes examined the room and

I saw Pedro decapitated,

bleeding of polyester

from scissors-stab-wounds

you inflicted. I guess,

he couldn’t protect himself

from the creatures underneath your bed

or save you from the monsters inside your head.

 

Rest in peace.