Letters to my love

My love,

They asked me Why is it that I love you? How is it that after my first love I went back to accept someone who was going to burn my soul? Where did I get the courage and strength to accept that my heart wanted you? And fought to keep you close? They harassed me with the questions and left me thinking.

Why?

And I do not know. One could go to my childhood, where everything starts. My core is there and I remember learning from my fears so as not to lose control, not to give in and to win.

Then I would touch the bruises, bite my wounds and bend my fingers so I did not know fear or pain. Thus I thought I was stronger, more resistant, feeling the pain until it was a habit. Until it was numb.

I could say that that is love, that I kept on loving to learn from the pain. Recover what I lost and to be able to love without dying the next time, without burning, without crying. One might think that I repeated the knowledge of my childhood.

Yet, there is a flaw. The pain of my childhood was always physical. Bicycle falls, kicks to the knees, soccer balls and sisters, it was growing up.

The pain of a broken heart is in the soul. It is the centre of your being, there aren’t any visible wounds. It is sleeping and not waking up because we are still together in dreams. Tears at noon and night, poems erased but memorized. It is a pain that does not have a scar, does not have a place of origin. You only have pains in the chest, tiredness in the bones, sleepy brain and mourning in life.

So no, it was not my childhood that led me to love one more time, besides to love someone like you, My life, is to take a test. The last one and study the night before. You are an old broken bridge that I have, I need, I must, cross. You are all the books that I have left in the middle and the songs that I can not stop listening to. You are dangerous and impossible.

Once again, why?

Because you are inevitable, that is the only response I have. It is inevitable to love you. I remember the first two times I saw you, so close we were, I saw you and I did not know your name but I knew that I loved you. That I had to know who you were, what you loved, what you hated, what was that kept you alive and killed you. Your favorite color and the name of your cat, I needed you in my life. And from there you were everywhere, there was no place where your name, essence, and soul, wasn’t, and I had no escape.

You were there even when I was with my old love. You were a labyrinth of mirrors and none was you, still, I persisted. I loved again. To accept this torture and this hatred. Because I couldn't lose you, I wouldn't, I shouldn't, let you go. I had to feel you run through my veins and destroy me. I had to stop running and love you. Since the other option was that of denying you. Rejecting you, fleeing, losing you and not knowing about you. Is not a scenario that I like to think about since you are one of the joys of my life.

In short, the reason why I loved again is, 

Always you,

TA.