Complicated definition

I am a stubborn human being. Of those who don’t understand well of surrendering and falling to their knees. Thus the depression is buried between my ribs and heart.

I find it difficult to explain what I feel when I see you as I fear strong feelings. So my lips remain sealed while you fill the silence. Although, if you look at my hand with its two-three and bend the middle finger, you’ll realize that I am eager to kiss you.

My friends love me to the semicolon and then they get bored. Because the night for me is for walking and the day is for a cup of tea. I like to run in green lights and sleep on the sidewalks.

I get angry every time the clock hand moves and I have this constant being that is in Defcon 1 and 3. So I understand them when they call me pathetic and dramatic.

I am of heavy and light reading and few of my books I finish. Of commitment, I am a liar but of the faithful, I am one. If you tell me forever I tell you to infinity and even with abandonment you have me in your corner. I will be an injured dog that still protects as I grew up with lost ideals.

I loved once and I haven’t repeated it. A part in me believes in the love of one and that it doesn’t repeat. While the other is frightened to the death of that emotional spill repeated in four years.

I fight easily and laugh in your face as tears fall, and few say they know me followed by my name. The deception of masks I have it in the juggling of bottles and I have broken five so far however we are still fine.

I know songs from end to start and I keep my music with respect and honour, with my authors who are my dragon treasures. I am of the selfish kind with narcissism who cannot see themselves in the mirror and less kiss a drunk person.

From purity to evil I have a step with which I like to play rope.

It isn’t that I'm bad, or good, or a definable being as that drives me crazy. I am of those people who love you but never tells you. Of those that stay in the corner waiting for the chances and then ruin them.

That of crying I don’t know but if you want I can tell you a joke.

My words run away from me and they mix to create an idea that is not correct. Because I find myself on rainy Sundays sitting on the edge of the fall but I am calm, I am with a light step and music in my mind.

I am that I like to discuss what you think because I carry the revolution in my blood and I’m not one for unfairness. That if you want history. Of her I know because it fascinates me to know how we got lost and we screwed it so gloriously.

If you are looking for me, if you love me, if you are in need of a known person, I am missing.

T.A.

Broken hearts

Broken hearts come to me, gather at this table for two, we have from drugs to alcohol and I have from my poetry to the photos to burn. 

Come to me that I have damaged arms to lie to you about the future, come, that your tears don’t burn me and we can put your heart in the freezer.

Anyone who wants a few years of mourning while a cold tea is passed with a stream of rum, come tome, we'll be fine, I‘ll close the blinds and the windows that our eyes are sensitive and we have this fear of heights that won't go away for decades.

Come, that I have the same tongue that those who don't succeed without tripping over the same name and have this tic that doesn’t know where it came from, although it always comes with the dead. 

Stay awhile, a year, a month, a life, that there is no Judge here, there is no God to forgive us in our hatred.

Here, there is only a group of desperate people who have erased chats with the echo of their voices. 

It’s a sad club of people who have a heart that beats in lost hands.

Ta.

Roller coaster

I am a roller coaster, nobody may have paid the ticket but I am in the front row. With arms raised and shouting to stop, but they tell me that the machine is broken and to wait a while.

I feel good and happy if you smile at me and I can tell you that everything is beautiful. I understand that you want me to smile and tell you about my day.

But understand that from my room I went to the dining room and from there to my bed. That my rule of movement is that of minimal effort and that the tears don’t fall because I spend them in one night.

You ask me to be of lighter and less desperate. However, I spend twenty days without feeling my love for anyone and the water is bread. So on the twenty-first day I give my heart and soul because I feel that I am dying in the overdose of my being.

You beg me to laugh when you go out and talk to friends. Be of good character and better company: "Eat something and you will see that you’ll be better". You put a band-aid and pray to God that today is one of the good days.

It isn't.

Because you have me on the balcony with the cigarette unlit and I want to leave. Although I smile at you and you see that it does not reach the eyes. Yet, you pretend because we are human and we don't know how to talk about apathy.

Is that I am a little decayed and empty, with a negative value for sale and I don't have the will to move my arms.

I know you want me to back to run the square three times and to go out three nights in a row. But, my mind is half asleep and in talks about beds and sleeping between sheets. So tomorrow may be better because not today.

You ask me to try, to take something, to talk a little, that it is only to grow and loneliness, that time has answers: "And please just try". I try to the point that people believe it.

The best friend, the brother and the lover.

It feels almost like I have a life and you celebrate me. You rejoice, you explain that this is living.

You take me by the arm and wrist through all the streets talking and shouting. Check that my smile stays and I'm afraid to tell you that it's already stuck. You laugh when I run and you chase. Denying that my eyes see the roof with desire and there is a dance with the lights.

You are happy, I am happy.

But it feels like a dagger in the heart that writhes and is an attempt that I cannot, nor do I get. I feel like a five years old, unable to disappoint. Thus I smiled at you, I talk to you, I hug you and we're fine. Because that's how you feel and that's how I feel.

T.A.

The weakness

And let's have a conversation about your eyes. 

Those I first refused to memorise. As I knew that if I could define the tone of your pupil, I would have fallen into a madness that would have been fatal. And I knew that my intoxication was in the truth and that I was never able to stop my weak knees before pretty eyes.

Yours had this subtle movement of following your lips, they seemed to be the ones who were guided in the dance. Between one to three nanoseconds too late and you missed it. Although if one saw it, they could notice it.

I didn't have to see the rising of a corner to know that you were laughing at me. It was all in the dark nights, I could understand from your closed eyes and a glued smile that not everything was what it seemed. And you had the tic of looking from left to right before crossing a red light.

Of blinking and eyebrows, you weren’t very good at it. You had a fault that came from childhood. 

You couldn't close one eye without falling into blindness, and the blinking was messy and you were tired of it. 

You were a photo with half-opened eyes, that you tried to film and you couldn't. 

You were my three times blind for not understanding dirt and you saw only the tone of your eyes.

They also moved with your noses, they were like an animated cartoon, the fox and the hound. They seemed dependent on the nose like on the lips, they were an orchestra. 

If your mouth made a face, your nose followed and your eyes fulfilled.

You were adorable and funny to see, in that way in which one bites his lips and feels palpitations in his chest. It was heartbreakingly easy to fall.

Your eyes were open and clear to see. They were present in your photos and if one said your name at midnight it’s the first thing one would remember.

They would become a secret that I won’t be able to pronounce and leave buried. They would be the reasons why love has no end.

T.A.

Unstoppable

I felt us like magnets, dragging the countries in our denial. I felt us unstoppable with impossible. Falling down.

I felt us awake and how had I forgotten? Of this oppression in my chest and fire in the bones.

There is temptation and desire dancing in search of you, they are with my fingers that separate from me for you.

There is that I love you, I love you, I love you and it's the only thing my lips can say. I need this day where you’ll smile at me.

I feel us like a firework halfway and like we are closing the show. The last dance rests in us.

And my throat is dry, my legs stumble, lift, stumble, and carry on. I find you in that I feel you in my heart sewing your name. Is that there is a shadow stalking me and I can't breathe.

The music is going fast with my eyes that need to go through your nose and know how the movement of your eyes. Is that:  “Pass me the lighter, your life, desire and I love you”.

That I feel you between yesterday and today and I need you now, that I am dying.

T.A.

This chance

And if we talked about third opportunities we would be in the territory of cowards. Of the first broken hearts and of the romantics who have a weak heart. 

We are among those who are blind and deaf. With a passion for beautiful letters and the way to leave you immortal without having you. 

They have this rejection in relation to love that one would call adorable if it did not have the appearance of an injured deer. And their fingers tremble even when they hug you. They still have the void between the lungs and the heart. They still say they are fine. 

If we were to write about the possible exiles, full of regrets and whims. We would be telling the many that love has left melancholic.

T.A.

Dictionary

If I could enclose us between the pages of the dictionary I would call us the phrase: "One more and we don't ask for more" In a loop, that never ends.

If I were able to have the hands of destiny and offer my past for this opportunity, I would do it. Because we have been that, we are that.

And I wouldn't think myself capable of losing the game. The addition that the yes is a no and everything is the world upside down. If the option of not giving us an end would be at the table I would take it.

T.A.

Love is

They tell me love is pain

Love is possessive and beautiful, Love is you.

And that is dumb.

Because I don't know you, I know your name and the way you talk. I can see you three blocks away and hear the way you sing. Yet I can't describe the way you write during one of your sleepless nights, I don't know how you put on repeat a song you hate to your chore. How is it that you walk through the broken glass as if it wasn't breaking your skin.

 I don't know why you say that you hate the rain when you like to stick your hand out and smile at the drops that drench your hand. (I was too mesmerized to ask).

They show me that love is kind and of equals, that jealousy comes hand in hand

And what's yours is mine.

And that may be why I like soccer now and you listen to dead bands that no one has heard before. It could be the reason as to why I punched that girl and you made that boy cry. Yet it doesn't explain that I still don't know what made you laugh at four in the afternoon because you were walking from Paraguay to Mexico.

I can't say this is a friend and that an ex-lover and I am yours. Because we don't spend time explaining what it feels to have your heart ripped out and chew in front of you. As we are two cowards that hide between sheets.

Love can be great and the winner of death yet Love doesn't tell me what it feels when you hide a laugh behind your hands. Because is you who tells me how you want to show respect even if you remember that thing three years and one week ago.

It doesn't tell me why you hold grudges as they were a treasure of gold and you their keeper.

Love evades me when I demand to know why is it that you help me laugh by being next to me.

T.A.

Confess

I don't have the right words to say it rightly and strictly.

In the way that you’ll have an anxious response between your lips. But as we started, we continue, so we are in a dead spot and I think that would be called drowning the car.

I know there is a desire mixed with a need to have a conversation, an advance to our vices with a revolution.

However, my throat closes, it feels like blinking and I am vomiting in his shoes before speaking. I am pathetic, disappointing and the last of my blood.

T.A.

Desperation

I was in a desperate need to tell you I was in love with you. My lips, my tongue, my palate were in an anxious state of spelling those damn word every time I saw you. 

But you had this smile, this arrogance, this push and pull, that let my skin crawling back and I was afraid of what love meant. So I was a rollercoaster that couldn't talk and the throat liked to cut my air and leave me with this fault in my knees. 

You would leave, my voice will say it and I hoped, I prayed and bargained for you not to hear it. Because my fingers may have been in despair to let you know how you left me dying and crying. Begging for you.

I may have fallen down a rabbit hole that wasn't a dream and a delusion. Yet I wasn't made of strong bones and fibre in my body to tell you that I loved you even when I hated you. 

T.A.

Apathy

The daily way with which to deal with apathy:

Throw yourself in a cold bathtub, the ones that are white and old. The ones that you know that if you close your eyes you can pretend that it is anywhere. Rest your shoes against each other, in the form of a triangle. Try to find a rhythm that does not seem to follow those clock handles that tic-toc dance in your mind. 

Slide your fingers along the marks on the arm, or the burns on the wrist. And perhaps the ones you have hidden between what are the ribs and thighs. 

Feel that lift that brings an external satisfaction that does not extinguish the emptiness. Although it calms the winding of the waves in your chest.

You can sleep if you wish, rest your head on the uncomfortable part and close your eyes. You will not have to dream but you will think you can dodge a few hours of a day. If sleep eludes you I recommend that you hug your knees and count to seven times five hundred fifty-seven. Let yourself drown in a routine that does not have an emotion.

Strength can be an option you don't have. So leave crackers with water within reach and promise that you will do something with them. In a few hours, now is far from possible.

Glide if everything fails and count the points in your eyes with the whiteness of the ceiling. Forget that you have a desperation to feel that you die in the sleep of your state.

Let yourself lose in a need to have a chance to speak.

T.A.