Aside

Feelings

The wait for the words that may never come remains. Words and facts forever bind, as true as anything else can be.

Hope falls with me, scratching its knee. Loneliness by our side, padding our heads, gently pushing our backs. Routine whispering wild stories of feelings and thoughts in our ears, so foreign, so close.

A liar feeling guilt, taking the option of becoming what she never expected to be; wrestling lust, fighting love, numbing the heart, ignoring her mind… Miserably losing at it all.

An enthusiastic child that believes his quest has come to an end; feeling it all right in the moment, idealizing possibilities only he can see.

A life companion, another broken beauty that chooses to be distant to an actual piece of himself; knowing nothing at all, forever being on someone else’s mind and heart.

A shy dog that retreats and does not say goodbye; feeling the bond, not showing a thing.

How probable is it to be the only soul wired like this? Feel with me, stay by my side; so close, look at me, inside and out.

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I remember

As I go on in this journey of the soul, lost to the idea and struggle of getting what I want, and somehow believing that I will never get it, carrying on my shoulders the blessing and curse of feeling too much deep inside and close to nothing outside… I remember you.

I dare say every single person I have met has left a mark in my life. It is not cliché, that phrase that says we are all unique, whatever we are meant to be. We can only see another person through our own eyes, but here it goes…

I remember you father, every day. I miss our subtle disagreements and quiet understandings. I wish you could be in more chapters of my book of life. Few words, as it was, as we were, as it is.

I remember you, the thief taking advantage of an unexperienced and lonely heart.

I remember you, the teacher with family, friends, study, work, paths and omissions on his juggling hands. A man with a strong desire to share your beliefs, guided by your faith and your wish for enlightenment to someone else in the same path you found it. I remember you when I read the news of the struggle of your native land, I suffer with you.

I remember you, the sweet man with a permanent smile on his face, and a little sadness in his heart. A kind soul that used to cheer me on. A friend living in a foreign country, trying to stay in touch with what really matters. September is your month, happy birthday.

I remember you, the intriguing man who has the ability to take me through the whole spectrum of feelings. I keep learning good and bad things about life and myself thanks to you.

I remember you, the young man impossible to forget right now while we are still snoring side by side, at midnight, and love has not ended with the night.

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.

Query

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.

Made up wars

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.

He died

He didn’t wake up one day… When the sunrays came to the window pane, no eyelids blinked back at them.

It was fast and sudden. So sudden, as the impossible always happens. It was a breath taken in the water, in a dream, with silver fish sailing around.

The quietness was not disturbed, the numbness of the crickets’ sounds danced the same way; the starry sky did not turn pale; the air’s density changed for a fraction of second, and the same after that, it remained.

He died, in the dark, with no one aware of the event. No one shed a tear, no one knew; and all because the tears were cried too much in the past.

To Do

–        Do I love him, grandma? Do I?

A day does not go by without me thinking of him. How perfect we can all get to be seen through loving eyes.

While I daydream, my nonexistent children have his eyebrows, his ears and his hair.

A sweet little word from him is treasured to last for all the days when ordinary words not spoken by poets in love are the only ones that reach my eyes, my ears.

What we’ve had and what we could have, I miss. I selfishly care deeply about his life, may he live long and healthy so I won’t have to miss him even more. I want him to be happy, hoping I can contribute a little with that; and curiously, I’ve discovered that some of that happiness bounces back to me.

I can’t stand him and I want him to change at times. I want him back at those precious minutes that I’ve witnessed. I want him to want time with me, as I do -as I want food-. I want to understand, to bear, not to doubt, to cope… not to want more.

And yet I fail, wanting more.

The feeling of giving up returns along with tears.

Once and again…

–        The thing is, my dear…

Does he love you back?