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My Honors College

Creative Writing - by Francis Villanueva

My mini art portfolio is centered around capturing the essence of my personal experiences with love and hope. I wrote these pieces to help me cope with and catalogue some of the aspects of my feelings and flesh out the mindset that I have towards them. I created it while I was in love, so the feelings were still fresh and stuck to the page rather quickly.

I’m In Love 

for Wren 

A terrible feeling tends to take root in my chest, and I, wanting nothing to do with it, cast it away only for it to return.
It always seems to find its way back to me, 

that festering rot,
eating away at my core values of self: logic, reasoning, order 

Never could it work -
the situations are far too grand.
I, an architect, draw a masterfully impossible scheme
heart thumping, mind racing
scenarios flitting through my head like a swarm of butterflies or perhaps mosquitoes 

If only this cursed affliction would leave me!
this vital flaw,
a sickness I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
I propose she burns at the stake,
for no normal vitality should fill my mind like so;
it reeks of a beauteous sorceress.
Yes, I can picture it now!
Up in flames goes that wretched witch
with eyes the color of a warm hug and
a smile that could make an entire day seem worth it – that small frame that gives the loveliest hugs
reduced to ash
never to be dreamt of again 

The only solution I’ve found, thus far,
is to wait out the bumps of my heart
and refrain from feeding the beast that is my hope,
a rotten creature.
That little animal is a joy only in my mind -
despite my best efforts of starving it into submission,
it still somehow grows into a sizeable beast
subsisting on the smallest of scraps.
It’s a shame that this thing I’ve come across
deserves nothing more than to be left stranded by a roadside - otherwise I would find it quite cute. 
This emotion blooming within my heart
represents all that is wrong in the world -
a malformation of the logic and reason that I’ve come to believe in.
What mockery is this,
this baseless attachment
quick to form on the meaninglessness of our “hello’s” and “how’ve you been’s,” full dreams and fantasies drawn out
from the barest wisps of a friendship blooming 
For the last time, I told you, I can’t be with her. Even if the stars were to align,
galaxies and heavenly bodies
shining upon our shared duet, 

I would find, once again,
that this romance is a solo performance;
my partner unwilling to dance alongside me,
leaving me onstage
with naught but an outstretched hand and a broken heart. 

Have I not suffered enough already?
I walk among the remains of a once-hopeful garden,
where wilted ambitions and dying dreams litter the ground. And thus, with a flourish of finality,
and though it pierces my sanguine heart,
I cannot have her poison my future any longer.
Therefore, I cast thee, my foul enemy
into the depths of my mind
never to be heard from again 

(at least, until I see her again)
(and we catch up a little over coffee) 

a lunar love letter 

for Moony

I often find it difficult to speak at times
to find the right spacing 

for my words
the pacing of my thoughts rushed or too slow 

I judge myself always and harshly
creeping its way 

into my heart crowding out everything else taking over 

it is only when I talk to her in her dazzling brilliance do I find my peace.
She always listens to me, patience and understanding 

etched in the contours of her face
regardless if I speak correctly 

or don’t know how 

I’ve told her anything
and everything
to the point where my friend in the sky 

knows much more about me than I do 

that benevolent beauty bathing me in the comfort and consistency that could only ever be found between 

old friends. and if you stare 

into the sky
you will find her there (most nights)
a hopeful brilliance surrounded by darkness a beacon of hope among the stars stubbornly
unafraid to be herself – 

it’s as if she was
destined to glow;
to confidently
influence the ebbs and flows of Life. 

I am still trying to find myself and my voice
to make peace with my darkness like she has 

although, I must remember that even she must wax and
at times, full of purpose 

at times
and missing herself terribly sometimes. 

in that fact
I must learn to find my peace
in that temporary fullness of the Moon, 

as she taught me
it is only through the emptiness
will I know what it is to be full

Challenge the conventional. Create the exceptional. No Limits.