Selfish memory

I’m going to be selfish 

Do you remember that time…

We were going to go out, I don’t know where maybe to grab a coffee or drink beer, we were going to do something, but I don't remember what. 

Yet I still have: The green leaves on the Chacabuco square, the red and yellow swings, people going back to their homes and you waiting for me because I had gone for a walk and I was going to arrive on time but not the late minutes that you were used to, from there, I don’t know. 

We had Palermo to walk around to burn the soles of our shoes, you had an easy smile, cautious jealousy and knew how to lied sweetly. 

Once we started walking we didn’t know when to stop and we were always arguing about something and every corner has a moment where we almost made it. 

I know we went to the cinema, that we saw something foreign, we laughed at all the wrong moments and my hand wanted to hold yours. We saw the titles until our eyes became red and when we walked out our arms were intertwined. 

I remember that in a small square we parted ways and I had the passion to tell you that I loved you, but you had smooth lips and quick arms to catch everything in my throat.

I remember that the streets had the smell of rain, burn cigarettes and there was not much to not notice. I was walking at a brisk pace because I still remembered your neck thrown back, your fingers touching the walls and your walking that was point and talon. 

Because I know it sounds obsessive I better say: I remember your way of speaking about dead language, of your brilliant eyes every time you took a photo and who you grabbed me in every red yellow marker. 

And, yes, I admit that I had become addicted to listening to the sound of your voice but with that, I leave: Do you remember when I sat down in my balcony and thought we would live a tomorrow?

TA.

Red nails

I will stay with what you taught me, even long after my footsteps disappear. They will remain, in my children or in whoever is willing to listen to me about the way a steak is cut, how to clean their hands or how to sit down.

I’ll sit under different trees spreading the seeds that you planted in my life, making you immortal in every human being that passes through my life. By saying: “Paint your nails red, put on your skirt and challenge the authority". I’ll tell them that the revolution began with a twenty-one-year-old woman who did not allow herself to be dominated by a man and that it was from her where nature drew its strength and from where God copied itself to create intimidation. That that is where my mother pointed her footsteps when she taught me how to walk.

I’ll be in every corner of my city as a prophet shouting to see if they have heard the story of the woman who was born in the city of diagonals to make it more bizarre than it already was. I’ll keep you in my memories as the woman who taught me that pain creates monsters of us and yet we have delicate strong hands to not let our loved ones go.

I’ll never let you go, even when there is no life left in me, even when it is in other people's lives. I’ll keep you tied to this earth so that no one will ever forget what our ancestors did to give us life.

TA.

Dead language

I loved this boy who felt like a train wreck, 

like when my mother was talking about her favourite book with my father and they brought back a dead language. 

I loved him in that when I talked to him, it felt like taking the coat after a long day and being handed a warm cup of tea in May. I loved him in that my heart was hammering my bones in the need to warn me that this boy would bring us a joy that would leave us begging to stop. 

I loved him in that I couldn't stop myself from saying it like it was all the words I knew. It was good morning I love you, you are lovely I love you, today is Monday and I love you. 

I loved him so much that it was bigger than the cells that made my body, that I closed my eyes and all I could see was the green of his eyes. 

I loved him that I could break down and cry between his arms because I could breathe, I could catch my air and not die when he was near. 

I loved him in that my friends told me I had a beautiful smile and that all the others were just fake things that hurt the soul. 

I loved him to the point that my bones shacked when he was near and my soul longed when he was far, it was a love that drove me mad with need and want, with the fear of never feeling like this. Of never seeing myself as he saw me, of never feeling his warm fingers travel from my ribs to my heart or how his smile formed in my neck and ended in my lips. 

I loved him in such a way that I couldn't stop myself from declaring that I’ll die for him, because I loved him as if we had brought back a dead society at two in the morning and I loved him that I couldn't kiss him without giving him my whole life. 

I loved this boy that I never asked for forgiveness when he left as if we never existed. 

TA.

Anger is the winner

The anger wins me,

the pain of not being able to control what hurts me leaves me with choked tears on trembling lips

and my bones seek for the strength to be able to survive the irreparable damage that's it's being made to my being.

But the screams of my soul is destroying my body and I want to fall on my knees, on bleeding hands and choked moans, I want to beg for whoever gives me a helping hand.

Although I have no strength or path other than keeping a cold heart and a clear mind. Nor do I have any other destiny than the one to face this torture as if it was another day and not a battle that is defining my life. 

I must keep my head held high, know the correct words and known me capable of facing the way home with the lights turned off. I must be able to lift this beaten-down body of mine with the sigh kept between my saber teeth and fight against the way that the ocean is swallowing me whole. 

I must stand these trembling feet on firm land and demand the world to hear that the anger wins me to fight for the people I love.

TA.