Poetry by Ayiana Grana

Edited by Cynthia Wang

You were so close that each time you took a breath, 

I could feel it on my face

I closed my eyes and fell into your voice

I examined each note in the symphony and committed it to memory

Each dip and peak 

The way your sentences slurred together when you spoke too fast

Smiling in between syllables

We accidentally brush arms

You go to grab a pen and grab my hand instead

And with each rise and fall of your chest,

You are my American Dream

It was so real that when I opened my eyes

I forgot it wasn’t a memory

You were always just out of reach

Across that endless lake

I twine and stretch and splinter

Close enough to touch before you’re whisked away

And that’s how it always was

Everyone could feel it

You’d appear long enough to catch a glimpse, extend a hand

Everyone wants a piece of you

But trying to catch you is like pulling on a string that never ends