It's over

Babe, there's a great difference between me and all those other girls you hang around. They are with you 'cause they have no chance of getting anything better, no more expectations than someone to pass the night with and luckily having a few free drinks.

That's not my case, I had every kind of possibilities you can think about, and I did choose you. Now I know it was a mistake and it was all my fault: I had my hopes pinned on you being able to give me what I need, and though you seemed to succeed some time, it came out that I can't change who you are and you couldn't either.

Both of us wanted to be together, but irretrievably tend to make the other an image of our ideals. Long and overloaded nails, satin and lace underwear, high-heels and short skirt while dusting and of course perfect and tasty meals ready when you come back home. What you want is a trophy wife and not a woman, you didn't get to see that there was something else, you didn't want to find out. I still can't believe how simple you can be.

My mistake was digging on your depths, discovering a world of possibilities you are not even able to recognize. I forgot to look at your face without fixing my eye on your heart; didn't care about your appearance, about your friends, about your habits. I wanted to bury all my prejudices and I achieved it, but eventually I've realized that all those represent the path you chose to follow, the way you want to be.

And truly, everytime I think it twice, if I consider it in the cold light of day, I don't want to belong to that world you are in. I am not one of those toys you like to play with, I bet on us thinking you had realized I was not, but as you haven't (and it seems that I can't show), I choose myself by confining you to my memories drawer.

Farewell darling, I couldn't do it better than you.

 

Two great loves' theory

They say that throughout our lives we have two great loves: one with whom you marry or live forever, maybe the father or mother of your children... That person you reach the maximum understanding to spend the rest of your life with.

And they say that there is a second great love, a person you will always lose. Someone with whom you were born connected, so connected that the chemical forces elude reason and will prevent you, always, from reaching a happy ending. Until one day you will forsake trying... You will give up and seek that other person to finally find her or him.

But I assure you that you will not spend a single night without the need of another kiss from him or her, or even arguing one more time...

You all know what I'm talking about because while you were reading this, his or her name has come to your mind.

You will get rid of him or her, you will stop suffering, you will succeed in finding peace (by replacing him or her for calm), but I assure you there will not be a day without you looking forward for him or her to be here disturbing you.

Because sometimes, you radiate more energy arguing with someone you love, than making love with someone you appreciate.

Translated fragment from Paulo Coelho

Daddy's embrace

I often think of you and I’m sure that so you do,but we don't make a move, don't let the other know. It’s a difficult relationship ours: you have been the only man I’ve ever felt a father and you have the need of helping me on whatever I’m in ‘cause parents do that: you worry about me. Actually, we don't belong to each other, you owe nothing to me.

You met me when I still was a seed in my mother’s belly. My parents and you were not only colleagues but also friends so you got to know them well: their virtues and faults. Once you started to know me, it was first maybe as a sort of experiment but then you fell in love with the mix.

It’s like a ball for lovers except for we are no lovers; though we love each other. You are the greatest man I’ve ever met: you let me in your heart and revealed me some of your faults when I was still an immature apple, but inevitably the apple of your eye. No other person (a grown one, I mean) in the world trusted me their fears as you did: not only you saw my potential, but made me work on it when no one cared and taught me more about myself than anybody could ever have done.

That’s why I want to see you now: when I get a little lost you remind me the person I want to be, the path I am to follow. It usually comes with the pressure of examinations, with my self-imposed duty of trying my best though I don't succeed even on attempting... but it’s not only about that: sometimes a girl needs her daddy’s embrace and it’s been a long time since my back remains uncovered.

Polvo somos y en polvo nos convertiremos

Caen las horas, pesadas como pequeñas gotas de mercurio sobre su cuerpo. Se deslizan lentas por su piel, contaminando cada uno de sus micrométricos poros, consumiendo su juventud. Ya no se mira al espejo, la que observa desde el otro lado es ahora una extraña para ella. No reconoce esas arrugas que empiezan a surcar su frente, los ojos siguen siendo profundos, pero siente que día a día la luz que los caracterizaba se va apagando. ¿A dónde vas, pequeña? Hay tanto que puedes hacer… Pero no, ella se encierra en su pecera de cristales tintados. No quiere vivir en un cuerpo que no reconoce como suyo, que no quiere identificar con la idea que tiene de sí misma. Es cierto que lo material nunca perdura, está empujado a un deterioro constante e inevitable; pero ella no ha sido capaz de entenderlo, de asumirlo.

El mundo ya no la excita, el hechizo que desprendían sus sonrisas al sol se ha roto, su melena ya no baila con el viento. -Ojalá  volviera a ser una niña-, piensa. Mejor temer tus ansias de frescura, pues esa luz ya no guiará tus pasos. Tus deseos han marchado con la primavera y el tiempo no hará que vuelvan.

Frágil sensualidad

Se trata de una danza silenciosa entre la noche y la joven del camisón blanco. Sus ojos brillan a la luz de la luna como nunca nadie ha hecho que se iluminaran; sólo esta cita nocturna es su aliciente para soñar.

Cuando la ciudad duerme, ya todas las persianas descansan y los únicos testigos son los pequeños murciélagos que revolotean desorientados por las intermitentes farolas, asoman sus descalzos pies al balcón. Algunas veces adivino auriculares entre su pelo, otras le basta con la música que sólo ella es capaz de escuchar. No sabe que la observo, que su cita con la luna se ha convertido de alguna forma en mi cita con ella.

Todas las noches, cerca de las 3 de la madrugada, salgo a la terraza con un cigarrillo entre los labios para disfrutar de su belleza; del sentimiento puro e inocente que acompaña cada movimiento que tiene lugar bajo ese camisón. El satén blanco brilla al deslizarse por sus firmes curvas desdibujando una figura que como cada noche, después de esa primera vez, me hace soñar.

Quiero pensar que sabe de mi presencia detrás de ese minúsculo punto incandescente en la oscuridad de la noche, que se ha percatado de su único y fiel admirador. Imagino que reserva su espectáculo sólo para mí, que cada paso ejecutado lleva escrito mi nombre aunque ella siquiera lo sepa aún. Yo tampoco sé el suyo ni conozco sus razones; ignoro el porqué de su danza nocturna, dónde aprendió a bailar de ese modo. El hecho es que el aura de misterio que la envuelve me hipnotiza… Temo que si algún día advirtiese mi presencia el pudor la empujara a abandonar a su oscuro amante y me privase entonces de mi particular capricho. Siento profundos celos hacia aquel que me mantiene en el anonimato, aquel que siendo razón para ella sólo es medio para mí. Cómplice al fin y al cabo de ambos.

La llama tras el foso

Como sombra que poco a poco extiende su oscuridad queriendo cubrir cada pequeña porción de mi mente, cada rincón de mi imaginación. Una bocanada de humo pútrido de mascado tabaco que se cuela de entre tus labios, una mirada que se pierde en el horizonte de unos ojos que un día fueron infinitos. Ellos parecen perderse también ahora, ¿pero perdidos dónde? Tú guardas un océano bajo llave, y aunque sólo me permites asomarme muy de vez en cuando, nadar en él es algo que ansío. Son aguas oscuras, demasiado profundas para quien no sepa nadar. Una siempre se cree capaz de todo, y yo tengo mucha experiencia dejándome llevar por las olas, pero hay aguas en las que nunca he osado mojarme. De todas formas… ¿para qué mentir? Tengo un miedo inmenso a quedar encerrada para siempre en tu pecera, prisionera de tus ojos, confinada en lo que sé puede tornarse la oscuridad más fría.

Estoy segura de que hay algo candente en tu interior, pero lo sacas poco a pasear; prefieres guardarlo para ti, como un tesoro reservado sólo para quien salga con vida de las gélidas profundidades que con recelo protegen esa llama. Una llama cuya magnitud no adivino, no soy capaz de imaginar. Quiero pensar que serías capaz de escupir llamaradas sólo con desearlo; tener la certeza de que podrías calentar un hogar cuando llegase el momento. Pero me temo que nunca podré contar con esa seguridad en cualquier tema que te concierna.

Realmente espero que no me sorprendan cocodrilos en ese foso, por ahora estoy dispuesta a cruzarlo a nado y voy sin salvavidas.

Part by part

Every step we take leads us to the nearby ending. Close enough to fear about it but being conscious we both need it to bear this dependency we’ve developed on each other. It mustn’t be healthy feeding a love that could probably never be perpetrated.

You know you got me in your hands, hanging from the fantasies we build together. Time is running and hopelessly redirects me to your arms, you’ll always be a part of me and I can’t help recalling your melting smile ending in slanting eyes, always surrounded by that scruffy hairstyle you wear; mostly when it rains, you know rain comes with you. You’ll look as cocky as you want, but you can’t hide your feelings from me and even being so much different, our lives have a missing part if we are far from each other.

This we’ve got has crossed unsuspected frontiers: my attachment to you has become unbreakable and although this is something I’ve always tried to, I can’t deny my love to you no more. I don’t want to live without you, aşkim.