freezing truth

What if I tell the truth? What if I just let this blow up and fill the room? I wish I wouldn't have kissed you that time. I wish I could take it back. It hurts, sometimes, when I can't hold your hand. It hurts even more when she is around. She is always around, does she know? Does she see the way you look at me? Does she see my skin filled with all your kisses? I sometimes feel she knows, she cries at night wishing you didn't want me so bad. You want to break this innocence you think I have, you want to be the first to make me bad. I sometimes wish you could, I sometimes hope you could let me go. I then want to kiss you, to touch you, to be with you. The thing is we are beyond those lies people tell each other. I can't go back to that place where everybody wears a mask and says I love you just because there is nothing left to say. Some say it and it kills me. It kills me to think you say those empty words to her and then look at me and say "I care". Do you really? Am I your long time obsession? When do I become this bottle where all of you put your darkest secrets? Why would I want you all true and naked? Why would I want to be the one who knows the truth behind those lies?

I wish I could be that person. The one who doesn’t let you go and stays. The one who is always there for you and wants to be with you forever. No questions asked, no past to blame. I wish I could erase all those things between us, all those lies we only know the truth about, all the truth that has made this what it is. I hold your hand and feel safe, want to go back. Now I know the truth, I can’t hide behind that door. I stupidly hope for amnesia, for my memory to cave and wash away. I want all those kisses back, all that touching. Then we could start over, fresh. Without the truth, to start lying to one another as we cared. We don’t care anymore, we are beyond breaking, we are beyond those lies that make people fall in love. I want to be that girl sometimes. I want to break all those true words we have spoken. I want to be in the dark with you, I want to start over and find my way into your arms.

We then go back. We try to fight the fact that we both know too much. We both know what makes us smile and what makes us cry. We know the lies we tell others to make them feel we care. We know what we mean when we say all those empty words. We smile, we play, we know what to expect. I know when you feel lonely and you know when I need you to hold me. And then we break, we just know its broken. We know there is no going back, there’s no way to fix it this time. We can’t, we’ve said too many truths, we haven’t lied enough. We stay, naked, without lies to cover up the coldness truth has brought. We stay, hoping this will all vanish and we hopelessly try to warm up with kisses this freezing truth.

sábanas de algodón y nubes de satín....

Entre sábanas de satín te encuentro. Entre sueños te veo. No, no me toques, no me mires. Me desarmas. Me llenas de dudas, me llenas de aire. Y vuelo, y te encuentro entre tantas nubes llenas de todo y al mismo tiempo llenas de nada. Y brinco de una a otra y te veo correr entre el viento. Te alejas, te acercas. La visión se nubla, como el cielo. Y me ahogo, me ahogo en un mar de dudas. Dibujo tu nombre mil veces en el aire, veo tu cara mientras imagino figuras en las nubes. Un conejo, un coche, tu rostro. Corro entre tantas cosas, la lluvia, el aire, las nubes. Quiero atrapar una y se desvanece, como tu recuerdo. Y te veo, y te encuentro y luego te pierdo. Luego me pierdo yo, me encuentras tú. Tomas mi mano despacito y me llevas otra vez a ese viaje infinito. Y me pierdo en tus ojos, entre tus brazos, con tus besos. Y despierto, con sábanas de algodón y nubes de satín.

Buenas intenciones

Te destruyes, poco a poco, sistematicamente. Te llenas de cinismo, despacito, todos los días. Lloras, cada vez menos pero con más fuerza. Dejas de amar, de repente, sin darte cuenta. Y te diviertes, te quemas, te llenas de cicatrices. De pronto dejas de ser esa persona que alguna vez fue transparente. Ahora nadie ve a través de tí ni sabe lo que realmente piensas. Te dibujas esa sonrisa, te pones esa máscara. Y juegas, cada vez más y cada vez mejor. Te vuelves adicta al juego, a la emoción, al dolor. Te gusta que le duelas, te gusta que te duela. En este círculo vicioso no puedes ver más allá de su cuerpo. Escuchas a lo lejos esa voz que te dice que te estás rompiendo. Escuchas ese crack que te confirma que no hay vuelta atrás. Has quedado marcada, se ha muerto parte de tí. Pero sigues jugando, sigues mintiendo, sigues sonriendo.
Que bonita te ves cuando lloras. ¿Por qué? Porque esas lagrimas son lo único sincero que queda de tí. Además de eso, no hay nada. Después de eso quedan caricias sin sentido, besos vacíos, besos tatuados que te queman la piel. Te duele, y te gusta. Te llenas de dolor porque eres adicta, te llenas de cinismo, de hipocresía y de mentiras.
Entre tantos juegos, entre tantos besos, no reconoces lo que es cierto, lo verdero. Truth is overrated. Quieres saber hasta donde llegas, hasta donde llega él. Y ves pasar a alguien más, ves como él te puede salvar. Lo dejas caminar a tu lado, tomar tu mano, y juegas. Con él también juegas, con él también te pones esa máscara. No puede romper esas barreras que con tanto empeño has construido. No puede ver más allá de tu cinismo. Y lo ves pasar, y lo ves cansado, y lo ves derrotado. Y no te importa. No quieres saber cuanto te aman sino cuanto les dueles. No quieres saber cuanto puedes amar sino cuanto puedes lastimar. Y se van, esos que quisieron sanarte dejan de intentarlo. Tienes esa capacidad de romper la más buenas intenciones.
Te ve con los ojitos llenos de lágrimas. Entonces, sólo ahí, justo en ese momento, no un segundo antes ni después, lo quieres. Porque le dueles y eso te gusta. Le dueles tanto que se aleja porque el sí entiende que el dolor no es la forma de amar. El sí entiende que el amor no es toda esa montaña rusa de emociones. Amar es mucho más que ese juego sin sentido que te está rompiendo el alma. Poco a poco, día a día tu corazón se deja morir. Está entrando en un letargo que lo deja a salvo de eso que dicen que es el corazón roto. Se muere, despacito, esa ilusión que recuerdas de los días en los que creías que te podían amar. No quieres que lo hagan, es ir contra todo eso que siempre has creido, todo eso que tanto trabajo te costó construir. Ese personaje sacado de tus letras, esa persona inventada en tu imaginación que ha cobrado vida propia y se rehusa a dejarte salir de esa prisión que creaste para encerrarte a ti misma. Y estás atrapada, sin salida, esa niña que alguna vez fue sólo sentimiento se muere detrás de una ventana. Está en esa casa de hielo que la deja ver todo y que la tiene aislada de la vida. Y duerme, tranquila, esperando que algún día ese hombre que siempre le han dicho vendrá a derretir el hielo. Lástima que los caballos blancos sólo los montan en los cuentos.

Sometimes we win... we often loose...

Sometimes life is complicated, sometimes it isn't. Other times it just is. We need to see things the way they are and give them their appropriate measure. We tend to overreact, underreact or whatever. But we never actually give things the importance they deserve. In my case, huge things don't seem that big and small things appear as big, fat, ugly monsters in my closet. Then I get scared, or bored. I wish I could actually see things the way they are. But I can't, I am unable to see clearly.

He walks away slowly, knowing he has broken her heart. What is there to say when you have someone's heart in your sleeve? He is unable to formulate a phrase, to even get close to give her a hug. She just cries and tries to understand why he can't love her back. We all have our ghosts, he does, she does. He refuses to let go. She needs him to do so, she needs to feel loved. I guess we all do.
This dance they're in is not something we haven't seen. There is always one who falls harder. There is always one that just breaks. We have this ability to break others and we don't even notice. There's always a coin in the air, who will break? When we start to touch, to live, we are betting on something. Sometimes we loose, sometimes we win. I wish I could always win.
I see all the crying and panic. It's not a pretty thing to see. I watch them all get hurt, but then again I watch them all get loved. It's just a risk I've never fully understood. Why would you go around looking for someone to break your heart? It's not healthy, it's not pretty. But then I see those smiles and feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Then I get confused. I don't want people around me to hurt, but they always do. I do. Then there are no words, no hugs and no smiles that can make all that pain go away.
I once saw him cry. I once saw him hurt like I've never seen someone hurt. I just felt my heart crumble and I couldn't say a word to make it better, make it go away. Someone else has his heart. So then it's a freaking never ending game. He has her heart, she has his heart, and so on and so on. I refuse to sign up for something as evil as that. And then I see you, and the world stops spinning. I see clearly for just a second. I fear not, for just one moment. And then it fades away. Then it just goes into that dark place my heart has become.

There is something in the air tonight. It feels thick and heavy. It feels like the last time. That day we both said goodbye and promised ourselves it would be the last. I had made my peace with that. I had learned to live without. I can't exactly explain how it happened but you just faded away, slowly. I found myself not thinking of you and begging for you to come home. I found a way to ease the pain, make the coldness in my bed go away. I learned how to stop feeling that void in my bed, my heart and my head.
When you give you heart away you never think you'll get it back, all broken and filled with goodbyes. I never thought I would have to mend it. Glue it piece by piece, moment by moment, kiss by kiss. Its hard to fix a broken heart when the there is no one to help around. Its impossible to do so when the one who broke it is the only one with the power to put it back together. But then it gets better. We learn to fake some smiles that eventually become real. We start to fake happiness that sooner or later turn into bliss.
I started to mend my heart a long time ago. I reconstructed every bit of it. Instead of being breakable, this time I glued it so hard it is rather impossible to give away. Now it is locked inside my chest, bound to be whole and empty. It will not break. That is the real shame. Now I cannot find a way to give it away. I cannot find the door so I can love someone that much. Not at least the way I loved you. Not in a have-my-heart-do-as-you-want way. I don't trust, I can't believe. I cannot even let myself care. I've pushed every single one of them away. I will not have a broken heart again.