Letter to my love

My love,

Yesterday we saw each other for the first time in three months. It was a beautiful autumn day and I was not ready to see you. I admit that I thought I wouldn’t see you ever again and although that hurt more than I could accept. I preferred that option than remembering the sound of your voice, your scent and the heat of your skin. 

I prefer to lose you then hear my name from your lips and the sound of your laughter. Because if there would be a torture for me it would be to have you near and not mine. 

And that was yesterday.

You seemed so happy, so complex, free, accessible and youthful. With that weariness in your eyes that look so familiar. You didn’t seem to realise that I was avoiding you. when you called me, when you grabbed me, when you spoke to me, when I despised you. You insisted and you were there, always there. 

It didn’t matter if I turned the corner, if I went to the bathroom, if I hid between classrooms and walls. Your voice, your presence, your name, was there, and it was unfair and ironic.

I didn’t go there for you. I thought it was a free space, that you had already left it, that it was mine again and that I was free and able to breathe. I thought that the last chance of a memory of you had been lost, that my heart could mend even if I still wanted you. My sweet, I thought I had a chance in surviving, but here were are, once more, writing to you.

Time didn’t stop. It wasn’t slow motion, it wasn’t red lights and fireworks. It was adrenalin in the body, wanting to flee, fear in the heart and only fearing for your existence. It was hiding where I could, in praying that you didn’t see me. But, if there is something we still have and can’t stop. Is that we always see each other, we always call each other, always attract. 

And we are the definition of attraction and crash, the sun and the earth. And no, I don’t want to think who is which, I prefer to continue drowning in the dreams and melodies of you.

Of course that after seeing you it was difficult. It was to pass the songs by “The Smiths”. Deleting the yellow from my closet and avoiding every street with a building (That day I didn’t leave my home). 

It was lying to everyone and saying that I was fine. That there wasn’t any pain, that I had moved on deleted your number and blocked in social accounts. That I was in motion because otherwise, I was going to die. 

Although, I didn’t say that I still have a photo of you on my cellphone, that your audios are hidden. And I know when it’s your birthday. I didn’t tell that I spend the day listening to the same song and smelling the bonfire in closed doors and windows. I didn’t admit that like an infection you were spreading fast.

Honey, to see you yesterday was to realize that even a part of me still loves you. Wants you and waits for you, that I can not control.

You were a new air, fresh and lively. You woke me up, you didn’t build me up, you help me reminded me who I was. You weren’t better, weren’t worst, you only were and that changed everything.

My love, you are my sleeping nights, the cotton in my brain, cold fingers, purple lips and tired legs. You are the slow songs of Lou Reed and infected wounds, you are impossible not to miss. That now I can admit and is a punch to the stomach. 

And I would like to say that I am moving on from you, but I am counting the minutes till your birthday. I’m waiting for a sign, waiting for a change in the stars, waiting for the impossible and it’s stupid, I know, it’s being an idiot.

Now, darling, the reason for this long letter of comparisons and list of reasons. Is my definition of missing and waiting for you as my failure to avoid.

This letter is wishing that someday you miss me yesterday, today, and tomorrow like I miss you.

Yous,

T.A.

P.S: Happy birthday

If I could, I would

Oh, If I could enclose it in words, if I knew every word in the dictionary I could describe his presence, his comfort in his bones, with eyes closed, the arms lose, dancing and the confident body and I knew I could love him, like when he talked with passion and justice, with the evilness on his lips and the sweetness on his tongue, I had to bite my lips so as not to kiss him and sin.

Then there were the moments where he would hug someone else, body committed, warmth in his hands and a smile in his eyes and I just wanted to say: “Me, hug me, like that always, whenever, just you, hold me” but I would see the traffic lights change of colour and I wouldn’t say it.

Finally, he would disappear, like an act of magic, with silent steps, the head down, the exhausted body, and I would just search for him, not because of a need, but because I was worry, because of want, to protect and because of him, and I couldn’t go and grab his hand to never let go, I couldn’t explain that his smile was my laugh, and its unbearable, insufferable, and a language I don’t understand, but if he gave me the chance, if he told me “Yes”, I would give him even the dead in me, my fearful heart would be his and my poems would burn in his words, if I just could have that moment again, I would do it right and I would tell him that I love him.

But I have lost and I only have these words to say who he was.

T.A.

Nature

Have you seen the stars shine? And the world turns? Yes? No? Do it and then tell me that the most beautiful thing in the world is love. That the colour of his eyes is a new one and not only the copy of the road. Explain to me how you can say that he is air when the plants are the oxygen that you breathe. Let me understand the heights that you reach while his feet are on the ground while the tree touches the clouds.

I want to understand how a simple human being is more than the nature that surrounds us, that binds us. That leaves us stunned by his rebelliousness and independence. Say it to me like I was a child and leave it to me in writing. So I can understand why he leaves me with pain in my chest, tears in my eyes, bruises on my hands and purple lips. Thus I can know why he destroys me more than the chaos of nature.

Tell me, please, I beg you, give me a reason, an excuse, an idea on why love murders more than her.

T.A.

Exist

I think I'm wasting time in studying, thinking, spending money that I do not earn, nor do I have, in rotten loves, beggar friendships and false smiles.

I feel the sands slide between my fingers, in my ears the only thing I hear is the ticking of the clock, and my feet move but they are in cement that is drying up and I have less time every day to think about why I should continue to exist.

T.A.

To you

I learned to tell the truth through my teeth, with venom on my words, I always hold my head high and stand tall, I double think everything and I fear dark streets, I trained my legs to run fast and to have a strong kick, I demolished every rule they gave me and made new ones, I look them in the eyes and tell them to move, I cry behind closed doors with the music on, I kiss and tell but I know to respect the boundaries, I hate the guilt in food but I love the pleasure in eating, I am doubtful, angry, mad, broken, happy, lovely and ugly and pretty.

The dark side of the moon envies me, the sunflower follows my walk and the demons cower before me. 

I am unpredictable, difficult to read and hard to copy, I am one in many, an many in one, and we are different and capable of bringing you down. 

T.A.

A bench in a square

A bench in a square

I would see the children play in their mind, fall and rise, I would see parents with smiles and I would hear the voices of the mothers, I would see those lives and I would have doubts in my mind, I would not really hear what Marcos would say or what Lucas would answer.

I would only be in the middle of the two, wanting to hide in the heat of Marcos and learn from the certainty of Lucas in death.

-Have you ever been with someone?

-No, you?

-No, Sebastian?

Marcos was nobody, was someone who wasn't looking for but found, was a boy who had bruises of the rainbow on his skin and marks on his skin that hid in sweaters and drunken smiles on his lips.

We didn’t know his name, not the real one, we only knew the questions he gave and the lies he said about him. We didn’t know if we were friends, maybe we were just strangers who talked in the afternoons and saw themselves in certain places, maybe that was the reason why he did not appear for weeks.

He didn’t look for death like Lucas, he just wanted to flee like no one who followed the train tracks against the train.

-Yes, it was dead in spring, I was happy but I used to cry at night, their laugh was torture.

-What happened?

-He told me he loved me

I had a need to play with my fingers, twist them, break them, bend them, destroy them, when the truth was presented as anxiety, in the moments that Lucas and Marcos listened to me and watched, where they sought to understand society through me, we were a dysfunctional, complicated but simple relationship, Marcos was not our friend only a stranger, Lucas was the leader of a group that did not exist and who lived to die and I was the young man who hid between them to doubt of normal lives.

-What did you say?

-Why?

-What happened?

-He just left, with pain in his eyes and without saying good-bye

-Do you miss him?

-I don’t remember his name

Lucas would put out his cigarette, sigh and Marcos without words would leave, he would get up, leave a void in the bank and walk with a limp in his broken leg and a tremor in his hands, he would smile and say goodbye.

He would not say see you later or bye, he would say goodbye because we never knew if he would return, if we would not read his story in a newspaper, we didn’t know what to expect from the today in which we separated.

-Have you ever loved someone?

-Yes

-Does he love you back?

-Haven’t asked

-Why?

-I fear for his answer

-Then you do not love him, if you loved him you would tell him, you would let him know, you would break only to see the sadness or joy in his face, you would do it just to let him know and know if he loves you, you would say it to him because you love him.

I remember looking at the children, they went with their parents, the wind that played with the scarf on my neck and my fingers that removed the painting from the bench, I remember several feelings of that day and thoughts that flooded my mind, like the breath that it burned my lungs, and I remember that Lucas was gone before I gave an answer.

Learning that love was only for the tortured, for those who love from afar and torture themselves with that pain, for those who sigh with a broken voice, for those who love who tomorrow dies.

-Ok, I love you

I remember, I was alone on a bench until the night came and my fingers trembled from the cold, while my mind described Lucas's eyelashes and my eyes remembering the curve of his lips and my feet thought they knew the way he left. 

I remember staying until I could deny that I did not love him and leave the bank where I would see them tomorrow.

If we arrived at tomorrow.

T.A.