waterfalls of words *
It wasn't
the words
spoken
what I kept in the folds of my heart
It was the heartfelt ones
those that, just thinking about them,
knot me there in my throat
a jumble of dreams
and
I know
you
don't
see it,
but -perhaps- something
is woven from the breath that encourages me to utter them.
I know you haven't seen the waterfalls that flow from my eyes when I think of you with infinite love... but have you felt it?
There's so much freshness around and my chest is also tightening.
You'll think that I only live to dream.
I am seeking a true adventure.
caresses, afternoons, books, music and coffee...
to look at you,
to breathe your hands.
when I don't know how to say what I feel in everyday words, I write poems
I have been locked in a mental prison from which I would only like to get out by your hand... it terrifies me when I see people die. It could happen to me. And what would I have left? No, we cannot live in anxiety. I know that you have been accompanying me silently through all my lives. You are the only one who can understand me; however, the game is still closed because every time we come back we are faced with the same challenge but different: distance, time not time, conditioning, dead-end streets... I want to believe that I am not destined to write stories of old people, nor of people who die or are reborn. I just want to write our story.
... A simple life in which every time we embrace each other the sun smiles and a rose shows its intense colour of happiness...
