Immy

I am the rough draft of a person
riddled with messy mistakes
underlined adjectives that don't fit
chapters filled with people
who come and go
but won't end up in the final edit
memories I'm sure to forget

my legs are just towers of ice
my hands are mere prints in the snow
all marks that I make will leave when the sun comes
and the memories fade with the cold

Stunted laughter
followed by the hissing sound of shushing
Gentle swerves
swaying bodies framed by red reflections
conversations break out 
cutting through the quiet droning do the music
flashes of blue light light up faces

Estas palabras,
que salen de mi boca,
con sentidos incorrectos,
y tartamudea mezclados en,
hago mi mejor esfuerzo,
para hablar con claridad,
pero estoy tembloroso,
y las palabras son debiles,