Mi Otra Yo
Byron Barranco
My Other Self
She looks a lot like a guy I know
and what I know about my guy isn’t normal;
even though I don’t trust appearances, I recognize
that what I know about this girl isn’t bad.
She outshines me in curves and I lack brakes.
Her gaze looks beyond what’s in front of her.
All the sins on her skin turn into good,
all the virtues and prejudices, what for?
The other half isn’t always as fresh as you’d like.
Your soulmate doesn’t have to be identical, no.
You look so much like the one I want to love
that I can swear I’ve found my "other" self.
She likes to take a bite of the apple like Eve.
Every night she invents some "original sin."
In my "paradise," she’s like a tree that rises
swaying her branches to the rhythm of good and evil.
Spoiled, crazy, selfish, and attractive,
the female portrait of my "self."
I don’t need a shrink to describe me,
almost everything I wrote down described me.
