The answer

The silence, it’s what left me deaf and almost getting in a car rash in Retiro. It’s the first to leave me after The First. It's what stayed when they told me to throw myself in front of a bus and with the crooked smiles. It is the ellipsis that I send when they ask me for explanations and that if I am well. It’s the way I open my mouth and know that it moves. That I feel it in the muscles of my stomach and I know that I am losing air. However, there is no sound.

It’s that I remember that you told me with anger at the door and bad instructions to explain. To take my time and cut the manipulations. That I wrote down why my veins sang.

I remember that the window had pink clouds and I thought that the wine was getting warmer. I thought that I still have a paper with blood and sometimes I wake up looking for the letters. I thought that the first time I slept with open eyes I was eight and they put me in the bathtub.

I think about the way I sleep now during a shower, and I know I don't say anything when you get angry.

That I try, that you have me with a sticky nose, lips stuck and the tears fall from everywhere. But I tied my hands to you.

I want to say it, explain it to you in a way that is not despising and 

I WANT TO SAY THAT I BURN WITH THE SINNERS, I WANT TO SAY THAT I DIE WITH THE INNOCENTS AND THAT I COMMIT SUICIDE WITH THE BRAVE. 

But seeing your eyes I stay with closed lips and I can’t. I am left with that I point wounds and I hope you can translate.

That that is the last I have. 

Which leads me to the madness with which I gave it my arms, my spine, my skills and I am ninety. I swear my veins are breaking and my bones are falling in my shadows. I cut my ears before the silence, I tell you that I am FALLING THAT I TRIP THAT I DRAG THAT I DESTROY

And you, you shrug your shoulders and I know that sound I  did hear it. That that one left me with a dead heart and that silence was life. That the noise were the demons, and now I am quiet. I am that I have become whole and insane.

And in silence, I tell you is that I am depressive with anxiety and suicidal intentions. That my friends hug me in fear that they won’t see me again. 

That my love writes to me in the shake of unread messages. And I haven’t t kissed because my luck is not of the creating bonds.

That silence is my answer because there are no words to define what I forget.

TA.