Tag Archives: heart

Where are my lines?

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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.

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Made up wars

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Take up arms. A new made up war that was planned long time ago by a bunch of brain cells.

Take up arms. In defense of liberty. In defense of profit. In defense of peace. What is real?

Take up arms. The location was unknown until the day that beheld a  revelation had come.

Take up arms. Face the unknown that makes you worry and rant; and calls for teary eyes.

Take up arms. Make plans. Make distances insignificant. Make time spread, as ductile steel.

Take up arms. You bear the unbearable. Wicked pain. You might faint, but strong you remain.

Take up arms. Today, tonight. Tomorrow. I share with you my soul if yours gets stumbled upon.

Only real wars are worth the fight. The only real wars are those from the heart.

Here I am

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One sentence brought it all back, waking it up from wherever it was fast asleep, waiting to die. The ache, the anger, the love.

One day made me forget it all. The sugarless drinks, his metallic smile, the errant eyes, the three dogs that lay on his lap.

Papers were torn. Hope was reborn. Gladness to have taken things slow. A relief in not fighting or forcing my heart anymore.

I changed a likeness topicality, for a full of love restrain. It is so hard to control all my senses, that yearn, wait, and don’t have.

My eyes, skin, ears, nose, mouth. Just one? No time for me, no active plans, just a spoken future that doesn’t begin to touch down.

Help me endure. Again, every morrow. Despite, and in decrease, of my neediness, explosiveness, corniness, childishness. Despite it all.

Tell me I am yours, only. Tell me you are mine. Tell me words are meant to become facts. Tell me forever has crossed your mind.

Here I am. Not minding temporary distance. Claiming for a window to the future that will let me see that everything will be fine.

Here I am. Knowing what I want. Sabotaging the good you bestow. Begging my doubt to be wrong; begging for you to shot it down.

Almost it all

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Unsuccessfully repressed anger. A constant and unrelated -if soft- headache.

Awake. Sleep chasing after me. Do not think. Do not feel. The bird and the fish.

Frustration that built up with desires of flesh and soul that have not been met.

I have not failed to see the easy coming beauty. Precious ephemeral rose beds.

Memory needs strength. The reasons. The differences. The love. The needs.

Life. Mind. Heart. Body. Trusted to a sense of certainty. Certainty and hope.

But cursed I am. Cursed it is. The feeling. Curiosity met by creators of doubt.

No one understands. Compounds. Same elements. Different arrangement.

Tears have stopped coming down while seated in uncomfortable bus rides.

The kite has been cut from the cord. Repeat the words. I do not care anymore.

Let it hurt. Let it burn. After one -only one lifetime- it will be gone. Almost it all.

The bus stop

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Her mind was racing. She used to see him there, sitting down calmly while talking on his cellphone; always wearing a brown fedora and occasionally caressing its side as if the tactile connection was necessary to keep him in this world, at this moment.

A pair of tired feet guided her to the familiar bus stop, a three button blue coat keeping her warm, and her heart beating slightly faster than normal… He was there, and again, they shared a glance. One throat swallowed making an audible sound, and it echoed to the place and time the writer of the story is currently at.

It was a cold late afternoon, one of those who remind you of recycled paper instead of orange and pink cotton candy. The tiny roof was leaking rain drops that accumulated up there not too long ago, and as they fell down they were serving as part of the soundtrack of silence clashing against the carved concrete tiles, along with the noisy engines kept inside the multicolored passenger vehicles.

One minute, seven months, or an eternity went by. Making her way through the crowd, a last bus of the line 27 was taken by her. He left right after that.

And it was not because he waited for her every day, it was not to see her come and to watch her go. It was not because he was struggling for courage to start a conversation with her. It was not for a certainty, that was only building inside her… No. The trip back home took him there every day, at the same hour as hers, and he had a bus to take.

And time, eventually, said it best.