The lights went off and my heart lit up. The beat started with a soft rhythm, provoking the lyrics to jump higher. The screams started as your blue eyes became present in the center of the stadium and hands started waving when the first words of the song made their way into the crowd.
I was wonderstruck, praising my luck for leading me towards seeing your beautiful smile when you saw your dream being made reality. You looked at the fifty-five thousand eyes staring back at you and realized they had all gathered to make their dreams come true as well.
I was afraid of not being able to capture every single second in my memory. I memorized the way your voice rose and fell at the same time your dancers moved their feet according to our mood. The songs grew, as so did my excitement of hearing my life being put into words in a concert.
I was in love with the stars that had decided to watch me become the best version of myself next to you. They sang along to the new and when the old stirred, they let the moon be the guide; you took your guitar and explored memory lane.
I was crying, realizing that you had been by my side when no one else was and that your words would be tattooed on my skin on my good and bad days. And on those bad days, your melody would be there to save me, like it did that night of July 18th.
I was inspired by your determination to make us all happy and loved. I danced to the fast and swayed to the slow as your angelic voice wrapped the audience in a bundle of joy.
I was clean of all my troubles and voices in my head after months of being captured in my own mind. Your piano stirred my self esteem and made sure I wouldn't push it back down. The old country song reminded me of the past and helped me live the photographs with a refreshed light.
I am thankful to have you as my light. I love you.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Sunday, July 5, 2015
4th of July
A deja vu. Three pairs of eyes running through the water on the fourth of the month. The clock of oblivion and heat creep into the night. It seems as if nothing has changed, that the teenagers look the same and the month that begins will tell the same story. But a lot has changed. Now the calendar marks another date and the beach isn't lonely.
The white feet advance into the water, followed by the tan. The bodies splash the water while the moon greets them with a red color. They fall into the lake and get up when tranquility disappears. The beer wait next to the wish of being forever young. With the wet clothes stuck the body they make a toast to the present and looking towards the future they hug.
The teens walk until the path vanishes and they trap the night between dances and failings. They laugh continuously and she smiles, realizing how precious the help of two people can be. The fourth of July shines in their rosy cheeks when they jump through the streets of the Windy City.
Their fears fade and their bravery approaches with the tree leaves. They let themselves go and without noticing they are still, thinking about the next adventure.
They celebrate independence, but not America's, but theirs against destiny.
The white feet advance into the water, followed by the tan. The bodies splash the water while the moon greets them with a red color. They fall into the lake and get up when tranquility disappears. The beer wait next to the wish of being forever young. With the wet clothes stuck the body they make a toast to the present and looking towards the future they hug.
The teens walk until the path vanishes and they trap the night between dances and failings. They laugh continuously and she smiles, realizing how precious the help of two people can be. The fourth of July shines in their rosy cheeks when they jump through the streets of the Windy City.
Their fears fade and their bravery approaches with the tree leaves. They let themselves go and without noticing they are still, thinking about the next adventure.
They celebrate independence, but not America's, but theirs against destiny.
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Hands
She doesn't pain her nails black like she used to not have to pretend she didn't believe in the rainbow. Now her delicate fingers end in an innocent pink decided to restore the flowers in the jar.
They hold the colored pens again, moving them without pause but without reason. They spring from the life they thought they had lost in the middle of the dream. They no longer hold Sunday's blanket, but hold the petals from the flowers destroyed by the winter. They freeze without fear, because they don't try to avoid the inevitable and play next to the wind.
Her hands don't hide in the pockets of her jeans, they go out and wave with incertainty but without remorse. They don't get lost between the dark corners of her purse, but they find the way that the color of her lipstick draw. They don't limit themselves to touch the old books in her shelf, but they also grab the novels that talk about new moons.
They hold the colored pens again, moving them without pause but without reason. They spring from the life they thought they had lost in the middle of the dream. They no longer hold Sunday's blanket, but hold the petals from the flowers destroyed by the winter. They freeze without fear, because they don't try to avoid the inevitable and play next to the wind.
Her hands don't hide in the pockets of her jeans, they go out and wave with incertainty but without remorse. They don't get lost between the dark corners of her purse, but they find the way that the color of her lipstick draw. They don't limit themselves to touch the old books in her shelf, but they also grab the novels that talk about new moons.
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