Both hands


…And you held my hands, both of them. As I hold you now in my heart. My hands don’t forget the strong and gentle hold. I’m not alone.

You gave me strength, in a good and also in a not so good way. We are alike in many ways. I forgive you, I forgive myself. We are learning, all of us.

The saturday night movie, the talks about traffic, my wedding, my mother and my late ending childhood await… there are moments we didn’t get to share. I’m torn. So soon, so sad, so fast. Oh, life!

It will always hurt imagining one or more little mouths of my own learning about life and love, learning to walk and talk, without Buba being one of their first face associated words.

I miss you. Buenas noches, papi.




El parque


Sentado en el parque observaba a otro hombre que caminaba despacio y mantenía sus ojos casi cerrados mientras su brazo izquierdo cruzado sostenía su brazo derecho, y la mano derecha sostenía su mandíbula; con un dedo índice que abrazaba su mejilla y señalaba al cielo.

El otro hombre era una versión más acalorada de sí mismo, a juzgar por las mejillas rojas. Ambos vestían pantalones color beige y zapatos café, y una camisa con cuello y mangas cortas. Era evidente que también compartían algún tipo de problema o angustia, grande o pequeña. No supo distinguir si la ira, un riesgo de derrame lagrimal, o el estar sumido en pensamiento, le hacían caminar viendo no más que sus propias pestañas.

Casi cómodamente sentado, disfrutaba del paisaje y esperaba a que el tiempo pasara y las cosas mejoraran, porque Dios es sabio y grande, y maneja el destino. Estaba seguro de que la amaba, y no había necesidad de demostrarlo más allá de llevarse bien cuando estaban juntos, y no verse mientras no se llevaban bien; habiendo tantos objetos de afecto, ¿para qué centrarse en uno tan demandante y explosivo?

Mientras tanto, el caminante incesable decidía si ir a comprar un chocolate o una manzana; pues tenía hambre. Y luego de eso decidiría si emprendería una lucha consigo mismo y con la terquedad de ella. No sabía si la amaba de verdad, ni por qué, pero no podía ni quería vivir sin ella.

Ganó el orgullo, y no por un tiempo; corrompió la duda como agente oxidante; fatigó el tiempo como en una maratón. ¿Para el caminante, pensando? ¿Para el paciente, sentado esperando? Definitivamente no para el tercer hombre que no estaba en el parque, porque estaba actuando.

Where are my lines?


My lines have gone to a wild land that I do not know. No one does. They have been gone for months, for a lifetime.

Those words that hug each other forming multicolor lines that have hidden under the velvet flower vase, inside the brown treasure box, and beside the imperfectly peeled oranges.

The lines have crossed my face instead of my fingers, in a period of time where growing up was not an option. Though, stubborn child I still am, with a wronged soft heart and a sharp mouth. A child that could never adapt quite well, no matter where. A child who does not understand life and all it takes. A child that feels too much for her own sake.

They -my lines- have gone to find what they know I am still looking for. It fails to come to me to finally figure out if it exists at all. Oh, lines! You are in my mind, across my heart, sailing away. Away, somewhere, away, disguised as prayers made of light and inaudible songs. You have kept away while I selfishly calm down my heart, treat it well, keep the doubts at bay.

Cursed be the wait and the bad earthly faith that touches the great souls that only good deserve.







I feel it come. Low voice, slow pace. It comes.

Five seconds that made the blue car stop. Stop for the stray cat’s ninth life’ sake; and then, carry on. Carry on to crash with a momentarily misplaced white car down the road. It’s crucial. In the same way, it won’t go.

Subtle at first, playing with my hair; making me feel the touch I lack of and crave for.

It comes when I wait, while evil monsters play with our hope; so far water splashed but safe on the shore. Evil seeds planted for me eyes to see. Green growing facts only a fool could forever refuse or foresee. One of those envied fools with a velvety heart; unscratched, unnamed for.

It’s a lie, all a plot. Once again. I don’t deserve love. It’s true, what it seemed. I’m alone.

Play that song to me. The one that says what you don’t already know, all what you know, and all we need to know. Calm down the beast, let it find peace again and keep walking this long lonely road. The road that one day, will be no more.



And sunlight won’t shine back… Thick dark gray clouds are holding her back.
Slim times -like a well peeled apple skin- allow me to see her, calming my thirst. But the pollution joins the persistent clouds.
And the selfish fear grows in me… the big new fear of one day not seeing her again, for as long my time is time in this life. What life? Without sunlight, I’ll kiss it goodbye.
Not strong enough to shine trough it all. Sunlight, I’m all confused, lost in the dark.