We get there dressed in colorful clothes, painted in red as if we were bleeding, with skirts and capes to cover normality just for a night. The place is filled with familiar faces hidden behind make-up; I recognize conversations around me while the music becomes present in that little building, and the smell of smoke melts between the people. I see every pair of eyes but yours, even though I barely knew it then. The words without meaning continue and the pictures destined for photo albums follow them. I move between the small multitude and you finally appear in front of me, radiant, dressed with an elegance that is unjust for the occasion we're celebrating. And me, with ribbons in my hair, turn redder than the nose I should be wearing. We talk, as if time was endless.
The melody stops and we run out into the autumn air, without a path, wishing for the stars to guide us. The moon helps me conceal the butterflies in my stomach and that innocent desire to stay by your side in a bench and let time fall to the ground.
Midnight reaches us, that time that tells all, those numbers in the clock that indicate that the sunrise of a new story is about to begin. It's like a fairy tale, you are the knight dressed in white with a bow tie that takes the cold away from the girl that has been left speechless.
And, in a moment, without being conscious of it, the first of November is the first chapter in our love book. The alley is marked by our unfamiliar kiss and our cheeks by the air that surrounds us.
The night of nightmares ends with a dream that has just begun and two hearts with a new beat.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Sitting on the reason
Sitting by her table and with her head on her hands she can't decide what hurts more: her heart repairing the wounds or her head spinning the words "Nothing will ever be the same" endlessly.
Her legs tremble, because she had to run home to not fall in the snow and dissolve in an infinite remorse. Her eyes are closed, not to look at the crumpled letter that her conscience hasn't stopped reading. The letter that has the words that she had once guided herself by marked in black. "Everything happens for a reason." "No!" she curses them, and tries to erase them with the smoke snow forms. "If everything happens for a reason, why am I here and not there? Why can't I turn the page? Why can't I let someone look into my eyes and tell me they're beautiful?" Her eyes, the culprit of this tornado. Her look is the source of her troubles, the one that decided to take a step forward when the cord of insecurity held her tight. If her eyes had seen the cord, they would have stopped her, they would shouted that was she was about to throw her self into was a mistake, that the "yes" that escaped her lips was a mistake, even if her mind proclaimed it true. That "yes" caused damage, a damage that her conscience didn't see coming, but that now is the only thing that exists at the bottom of her nights.
Her lips tremble, scared of the words they have just said, sad because they know nothing will ever be the same; even if they smile, talk and pretend, the cord that tied autumn and winter will never be as strong.
Healing the scars distance has left, her heart asks for forgiveness. It pleads for forgiveness for not being able to take the bricks the down, and for not holding on and exploding. Sitting by her table and with her head on her hands, the only thing she can do is tell her dear heart that there's nothing to forgive, that she know that was coming and what will come.
Her legs tremble, because she had to run home to not fall in the snow and dissolve in an infinite remorse. Her eyes are closed, not to look at the crumpled letter that her conscience hasn't stopped reading. The letter that has the words that she had once guided herself by marked in black. "Everything happens for a reason." "No!" she curses them, and tries to erase them with the smoke snow forms. "If everything happens for a reason, why am I here and not there? Why can't I turn the page? Why can't I let someone look into my eyes and tell me they're beautiful?" Her eyes, the culprit of this tornado. Her look is the source of her troubles, the one that decided to take a step forward when the cord of insecurity held her tight. If her eyes had seen the cord, they would have stopped her, they would shouted that was she was about to throw her self into was a mistake, that the "yes" that escaped her lips was a mistake, even if her mind proclaimed it true. That "yes" caused damage, a damage that her conscience didn't see coming, but that now is the only thing that exists at the bottom of her nights.
Her lips tremble, scared of the words they have just said, sad because they know nothing will ever be the same; even if they smile, talk and pretend, the cord that tied autumn and winter will never be as strong.
Healing the scars distance has left, her heart asks for forgiveness. It pleads for forgiveness for not being able to take the bricks the down, and for not holding on and exploding. Sitting by her table and with her head on her hands, the only thing she can do is tell her dear heart that there's nothing to forgive, that she know that was coming and what will come.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Mirror
Talking with the mirror, I told myself that I would never again look for the flowers between the thorns. Observing my eyes, I promised my glance I wouldn't look for happy endings where there aren't any. Looking at my rosy lips, I formulated the words "happiness shouldn't be searched for." And seeing my shoulders move when breathing, I whispered "it comes when everything is lost and the sky is grey."
I turned my head and looked out the window; the sky wasn't grey but pink. I smelled the autumn air and rested my head in the wood frame. I saw the leaves fall. Everything falls, even people. But like October leaves, people fall and are surrounded by colors, that little by little intertwine with days and become a beautiful mantel that covers mornings.
The pink sky was darkening, but I wasn't scared of facing the night. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the small neighborhood in the big city. With every step, bark, and tire that made a sound next to the wind, I entered a simple monotony. My mind left the corner with the mirror and made it to the end of that book that doesn't end with a happily ever after, but with the realization that life moves with precision, and it gives us happiness and sadness at the same time, to teach us the gift of falling and coming back up.
I turned my head and looked out the window; the sky wasn't grey but pink. I smelled the autumn air and rested my head in the wood frame. I saw the leaves fall. Everything falls, even people. But like October leaves, people fall and are surrounded by colors, that little by little intertwine with days and become a beautiful mantel that covers mornings.
The pink sky was darkening, but I wasn't scared of facing the night. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the small neighborhood in the big city. With every step, bark, and tire that made a sound next to the wind, I entered a simple monotony. My mind left the corner with the mirror and made it to the end of that book that doesn't end with a happily ever after, but with the realization that life moves with precision, and it gives us happiness and sadness at the same time, to teach us the gift of falling and coming back up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)