Cigarro (5)

I've just realised that I will miss you my whole life. Not because I want to be with you, but because I want to make you happier.

That means I'll always be glad that you are happy and safe.

Please never forget me, and the things we've learned.

Be lighthearted, stay cheerful.

Lipstick

It's december the 21st, and we're holding hands next to the door of the toilet at the disco. Your sparkling eyes, just as that drink that you've been ordering and tastes like thunders, haven't stopped looking at me. And I can tell, by the way that they do, that they're waiting for something half expected, half not.

You run a tissue through my lips in order to remove the blood from the accident we had five minutes ago at the terrace. And it feels sweet. I can't help but stay silent and draw a silly smile as I look at you.

You're just gorgeous. Your hair feels soft, your lips look appealing to me, and the way you approach as if you weren't a hundred percent sure of what's flowing between us are making me crazy.

I can feel my heart beating real fast, and I imagine yours is too. The timidity shows up again, and you suggest that we go back at the terrace, where everybody's having fun and making the most of it.

Once there, but before meeting the crowd again, I feel it. I must invent a stupid excuse, that I'm sure you don't believe at all. And there we are: one in front of the other. I sway my head slightly to the right and reach your lips.

Kissing is not always easy, or even synchronized at all. But this one feels just perfect. I feel no fear for anything, and all I can think about is the precise moment when we finally sentence our realities (or the beggining of them).

I have plans for us two. I want to be with you. I want to show you what the best moments in life, the ones when you feel the rush of love, are like. I want to make sure that you regret nothing, and make the most of this temporary things in life.

I fancy a sushi night, dancing, drinking, discovering museums, taking photos, sleeping, kissing, buying make up, learning about other countries and languages, getting tattooed, sending goodnight and good luck texts, listening to you talking for hours about what keeps you awake at night... Daydreaming.

I know that I'm late. But I didn't want those nice thoughts to die in my memory. I wanted to make sure you know.

Love you.

When he left

For years, I believed that love was a person who appeared to me as some kind of magic, ready to make me happy no matter what circumstances I would be through. That this feeling was meant to last forever. And that the person was meant to stay.

When he left, I believed love had left too. I spent months thinking that no one was going to love me like he did, or not at all. Each other person that tried to walk my way, holding hands, just didn’t seem enough. I was partly scared of being undervaluing that person who really meant something to me by exchanging him for another.

When he left, I was scared of having lost a part of me, since he knew a huge part of me. But it turned out to be all fake. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know the ‘me’ of now. He knew broken shreds of the ‘me’ that I had been. And, truth is, I didn’t like that version of me. Then why would I want to be with someone who makes me who I am not anymore?

When he left, he got me thinking I was flawed. That it all went wrong because of my fault. He walked away from me with vague explanaitions which made no sense, and sounded of excuses. He found other lips to kiss and other bodies to put his hands on.

And when he came back, after searching the whole world for something else to make him feel like what we had, it didn’t matter anymore.

I finally understood that love wasn’t him anymore. That I had to search for love inside of myself, and then in others.

Because, in the end, all that we want is to love and to feel loved. It has to remain this simple.

Love is nihilistic, and we have to embrace it in all its shapes.

Rastro

Has querido borrar todo rastro de mí.

Las fotografías y las huellas en la piel fueron lo primero y más sencillo. Te bastó con cerrar los ojos, y así, de un golpe, también la puerta a todo pensamiento que te recordara mi cuerpo. Casi me pillas los dedos.

Mas eliminar lo que la mente guarda te costará mucho más de lo que creías. La recreación de mí misma se va a reiterar hasta que el corazón deje de latir, o hasta que el alma nuble su memoria y se despoje del andrajo del pasado, que se empeña en seguir vistiendo.

Rencor

Aunque se haya intentado
una vez y otra
lo que el corazón ha callado
no lo guarda la boca.

Mas no todo lo dicho,
por verdadero que suene
debe sonar tan frío,
pues ni siquiera se mantiene.

Con el tiempo y el sosiego,
que pondrán todo en su lugar
decidiré con qué me quedo,
y qué otras cosas negar.

Perdono tus palabras
ya lo sabes, las olvidé
Asi que discúlpame por las molestias
pero perdonar acciones yo no sé.

March

Will I ever feel something like this?
Your lips, your hands,
your eyes, your hair.
It is now a memory of bliss.

Distant.

Or of what it has already been
in fact, because,
you were the cause
we said everything we did not mean.

Again.

November was stress,
December was a mess.
January painted me golden,
but February got me broken.

Now that it is already March
it has turned out we are no match.
But just in case you want to know,
I think I'll wait for if you show.

In silence.

I want no more furious crying,
no more drama. It has me dying.
Forget me if that is what you need
to quit this wound from the bleed.

A Cernuda.

Hazme creer que esto que sucede
no está pasando, miénteme.
Dímelo, bajito y al oído,
las veces que haga falta.

Solo quiero que, por una vez,
me hagas creer que estás aquí.
Que beses mis labios como si todo,
pero siendo, en realidad, nada.

Justo así.

Que luego ya tendré tiempo de marcharme
de decir adiós.
Aunque me pase toda la vida despidiéndome
antes de irme

allá, allá lejos;
donde habite el olvido.