Math

The taste of the smile in the math class lingers on my memory, it has been almost nine years. Yet I still remember your honey-coloured eyes watching mine. 

And no I never loved you, because that was too serious for a young kid. That thought that everything was breakable and went wrong fast and didn’t want to lose you. 

So it was a game to say that we loved each other in the halls and in the middle of a class. A joke that I hug you and look at you during exams like your jealousy with Lucas.

It was all a joke.

Still, I remember of my heart beating softly, a tum tum tum, while I smiled at you, pure and natural. 

T.A.

In love with you

I was in love with you in the condemned ways, the first cigarette and shot of the night. Every voice is screaming wrong and there is blood on your hands before it all begins.

Still, I persist 

It’s easy to see that I followed you in a blind way, without asking and with a trust long lost time ago. It was children play what we are doing, saying left and going right.

If someone asked: “Why?” You couldn’t give them an answer as you never stopped to ask me for one.

I was with you because of the way it felt, your hand on my back. The warm smile and the roll of your tongue with my lonely R. The Why, was because of how I could breathe when I was with you.

Yet, there was a price.

Your silence, your games and your moaning of the right name with other. I was in love with you in the way a monk shakes its head and mothers warn us about. That no army could hold me back and I was a firm believer. The dying kind. 

I was in love with you in the form, that woke up the mind and didn’t let me choke on my pride and let you walk over me. It was in my head held high and a firm stand when you behaved like a child.

In the way, that fire and gasoline explode.

T.A.

Letters to my love

My love,

And let’s see My heart, one last time. We went through many stages in the last few months that I have forgotten them all. And there is something wrong with me, of that we have already talked. This time we are talking about another subject.

We are stuck in the last step, we look a faint waiting to happen, all the signs are present.

The number is Defcon 1.

It’s let's go to the Cinema, the bar, a cigarette on the street and a thousand more plans. That are getting lost in question for the colour yellow to summer vacations. And this is stupid, Dear this is boring. Please realise that I am untangling and walking.

Because I have already done the broken heart.

Honey, I am asking for an awakening in this phase, this crossroads. Commit yourself to the last step, say yes. Come dance by my side, in front and see that I have changed yet I still want you, I look for you. Come and take the last step, my lips crave for you.

Dare to create us.

If the stars do not need to alien, an eclipse to happen and pigs to fly. If there is a minimum of attraction and intoxication, then kiss me, catch me, hold me, don’t let go. Be the one I have been waiting and losing for. Throw yourself for the last, let's evolve to destruction.

Needing a soon answer my life.

T.A. 

Midnight thought

Safe haven

I am sad so open up your arms and rest your head on mine, tell me sweetly how there will be a solution and turn off the lights. Destroy the idea of time, and cuddle up with me in the absence of a stove.

Let me feel your smile in my neck, impregnate your happiness in me. Caress my hair with your fingers that make mess and knots out of it. But they let me hear the tum tum tum of your heart.

Talk to me softly about the last soccer game and sing to me one of your silly songs. That my legs end around your hip while you hold me and let me sleep in your arms.

T.A.

Vicious circle

Baby is a dance, a never stopping one, and its why we are screaming, and the reason for soft speaking deadly words. 

You know that arrogance with narcissism never went well, and for a stupid reason, you and I are a magnet. 

We can't excuse it with the four in the afternoon messages and the streets that we still meet. 

It's a sure bet that we are doom to keep coming back. And if someone asks what is love we get a painful look of someone truly in love.

T.A.

Warnings

Everything is wrong with us, from the mode you talk and the way I walk. We are bad from your ears to my fingers toes. And there are warning signs, friends screaming and your mother is crying.

It’s a recipe for disaster.

I can taste the blood before I kiss you and you can hear the crack of my bones before you hold me. We are named the third Titanic and it was like a premonition. And without trying to avoid it you hold my hand when I jaywalk blindfolded through avenues. And you light up my cigarette while smelling like gasoline. 

My sisters are holding me back from you and your brother is taking you away. Because the doctors called us a new form of addiction, toxic and deadly. 

And we are one step from punching our problems out and your words cut deeper than my knife on your skin. 

The demons are singing to us and the angels are moaning in pain. 

And the eclipse is happening, the screams are a crowd and dear they are bringing the fire. We are the catastrophe of a nation in despair, but baby my hands are burning up for your desire.

T.A.

Gospel of truth

She was screaming for you, she was calling your name, begging for you, whispering for you. 

You gave in, 

she 

      was the apple. 

She would tell you that you were her first. 

And of course, you would feel worried, 

because there are expectations

because she was a winter break.

It was important.

But God. 

No. 

She laughed, 

she laughed, a silly old laugh 

And looked at you when you both were at your rawest and told you the truth, 

like it was a Gospel of Truth l

ike it was a legend like 

it was history,

 a known fact:

“No, silly old you, you are the person I like at the moment. The one I feel most attracted and safe with. I feel that we are equal.

(Even though I get a burnt every time you look at me.) 

Only feeling at ease when I have you moaning my name like want and take,

when my fingers touch your body like a sin. 

And my fingers are itching.

Bitch, you are the reason why I don’t smoke anymore and find sleeping boring. 

It's the way you carry dead on your shoulders. 

Yet you kiss me so very slowly like your life depended on letting me know of your love. 

No, you are better than important. 

You are eternal”

And fucked if you kissed her there. 

Because her lips were open and the words she was saying were truthful and honest. 

And they were her soul and it was ripping you in two.

You kissed to silence because you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You weren’t human enough to accept the truth of the two of you:

Of her love for you and your need to be her haunting hands, that that night you kissed her, made her moan, scream, whisper, beg and call for you.

T.A.

Fail

I have failed ten and twenty times. That luck works in reverse with me and that we are burning the bridges, ain't a secret.

The candles for me have been lit and then blown by children with laughter and slow walk. 

Now I have the chills.

This year may as well be the last because what is in my veins is cement and my mind is numb in smoke. And my demons only keep me afloat for their own fun and need.

I want to give in, leave a letter, close my eyes, and fall. Even when I am terrified of the white colour fears on my chest and tremors in the heart. Even with the days of emptiness. That are naps in the bathtub, old converse, Lana del Rey on the phone, green leaves and fighting to think to exist.

To achieve and fail.

And living with that fear is to refuse to create memories, to breath. I need a break that lasts three lives, that can help me deny the rancid moments and lose the reason.

T.A.

Letters to my love

My love,

I would like to tell you about my almost suicide.

It was a beautiful winter night between my fourteens and fifteens. And other years between. 

My dear, that night I never slid through the void because the fear had been tie itself to my heart. And I remembered the ones I would be leaving with a piece of their soul broken left me with my legs trembling. 

It is an obvious response that I didn’t carry it out that time or the others where I considered it. 

A step too slow and too coward.

That almost suicide happened while my mother watched television. And my sisters were studying. I was in my sanctuary, where I hid when the steps were rush and the voices high. 

I remember white and it was the slide of arms for a slight clack and finish it fast. I know I was minutes and minutes in there. That I did not manage to achieve it and that I continued with falseness between my lips. 

I would like to say that I have not tried it back, but this is not about lies.

I would like to tell you what I remember from my childhood.

Of roller coasters, tears, wet sand, bare feet, rubbers and drawings. Of pools in gardens and hands with insects, hockey sticks and ice cream at midnight. Knees and beginning to be able to eat. I remember snip and pieces with no phrase that binds me to a successful year. All my childhood is fast, it is a camera that skips shots and has no dialogue. What is left of ten to twelve years is forgotten melancholy. My passion for dancing, the desire for soccer, the options in life and how easy it was to breathe. From my childhood, I am scarce words with too many tears. 

With it, I am honest and raw.

What I want to tell you next is my adolescence so pure and innocent. And wasted. 

Then the beginnings of youth with Nicolas and Lucas. Chronic pains, campfire smoke and betrayals with failures. I want you to know the little details of my life. 

So when the funeral comes you will be the spectator who says: "That's not it!" and you'll get angry for me. You’ll know.

That you’ll join with my only honest friend and discuss the possibilities of my life, I want you to be my hidden prophet.

Why?

I am selfish and I do business, if you want what I offer, if you are interested and want it, I ask for an exchange. I ask the simple one for one, an eye for an eye. I want what is your dark points and spots of your being. (The smell of new clothes and chocolate with strawberry.)

What I say is reasonable, it is understandable and I only need that if you want my impure soul give me a balance. Knowledge of you.

My life, I hope this letter reaches you soon. Because the month runs fast and the offer is running. 

I hope you read it so to get your yes. That does not fail you and you find me. I hope you know to read the confession between paragraphs.

Eternally Yours,

T.A.

Last night

My sweet, you called last night and you were drunk. 

You were crying. Sitting in a street corner all alone because people had abandoned yo. And I was in another town, we were missing each other once more. 

Yet, my love you didn't call me because of that. You called me because you were afraid. You say you saw your friends jaywalk and that you thought of me in big avenues and green lights. Of subways and yellow marks. Of the ocean that is as deep as your eyes and my feet that are always so near to falling. 

You called me because you thought I had died and you were afraid. Afraid I had done it while you were out having fun. Afraid that I wasn't joking the last time I said it, afraid you hadn't done enough, afraid you were too late. 

My darling, it took hours. It took the sun to come out for you to stop crying and to, believe me, I was alive and you weren't drunk enough to invent me. That I was talking and you were listening. It took even longer to get you home and let you sleep. I had to keep talking until you closed your eyes and made promises to call you back. 

My Pehuajo, last night I had drunk half a bottle of vodka. Let the cat out of the house and was about to open the gas when I got a late call from a lost friend. 


T.A.

Little lights

I write it on my skin, in permanent ink. It is the song of my alarm clock and the ringtone of your messages. It is all the lights in red that I could create and even then I avoid them. I still fall into drunken messages, missed calls, crossroads and questions about you. 

I am making mistakes in loving you.

They tell me to give time to time. Not to take out a nail with another nail and that he was not what I deserved. They tell me in the form of prayer and mental washing. Hoping that I learn and respect my commandments, they preach it to me because they love me.

But, the ink with alcohol and cotton are erased. The alarms fall asleep and the ringtones are silenced. I say where there is a way there is an option. And it is burning my soul and my legs tremble at the desire and need for you. 
That I love him until his twisted and complicated mind, is known. You can tell me, order me. 
Yet I don´t have a way to contain my butterflies for him.

T.A.