that day in june

~~ It was an atypically cold morning amidst spring but he didn’t mind the weather. His phone was off and as it was expected of him, the bed remained undone and untouched. An empty glass on his desk, lamp on, windows wide open.

On the predominantly bright and white screen, one single sentence written.

That was everything.

The gaunt look on his face, the dark circles around his eyes, the quiet despair.

With the presence of a night crawler, he walked to kitchen and meticulously searched for something of interesting value in his messy living environment. Deception was clear until the moment his dog discovered something stuck under the front door.

- A… letter? Really?

The crumpled pages were printed but there was a handwritten signature that caught his attention because of its similarity to his own. 

- Who did this? Ah. - He had a lucky guess.

As the sun pushed the night away, he sat and read what was carefully placed on those pages only for his eyes to read:

***

Hey there Mike, I hope this will find you at the right moment…

First and foremost I must apologize. I was way out of line in my last message. Part of me thought that question would sound ‘cute’ only to realize it was actually stupid shortly after I clicked on the ‘send’ button.

With that being said I must also let you know I’m writing this to tell you why I like you so much or in other words, why I think I like you so much and what liking you means to me, right now.

It’s entirely your choice to stop reading this letter at this instant if you don’t like to be thrown into the thoughts of somebody’s sweet/deranged little head in the middle of the night without any previous prep time…

Still here? You were warned.

My relationship status as we speak is ‘caught in somebody’s limbo where I’ve been fighting to get out alive without hurting the dreamer, not really knowing what the hell I’m searching for’, getting to the conclusion there’s ultimately nothing here for me to find, just to give: and I’ve given it all. I’m actually feeling like this is more like Blue Valentine and less Frankie and Johnny, nevertheless it is a situation I must deal with by myself, you have nothing to do with it, but

I kinda like you.

In fact, I like you quite a lot and this was the first time I felt like this since I fell for this guy I’m with. For a period I enjoyed being far, watching you work every now and then, thinking about what a great person you would be if I ever got to know you. I loved to do that.

Being away was right. I could think you were nice enough in my good days or hang on to the idea you were just an arrogant little asshole in my bad days, but it didn’t take long for you to talk.

It didn’t take long for me to notice my good days were always spot on and it definitely didn’t take me too long to be able to speak. That is a major issue in my book: a woman like myself should be silent for life or put away in a little village in the countryside of France (yes, France!) without internet connection so she’d never put herself in these stupid situations, ever again.

My point is I’m ashamed to like someone else but I’m not ashamed of liking that someone else. I’m ashamed I feel like a stupid platonic creepster when I know I’m nothing but a girl with lots of passion running through her veins and… I’m definitely ashamed of not being able to just take a deep breath and relax. No. I have to sit here and write this for you because, well, I like to make a brilliant fool of myself instead of simply moving on.

So, I’m sorry for my being me and I’m sorry I like you. You deserve someone less… well, like myself.

That was it and I guess I’m never seeing you again? :) …. :(

love, Rita. 

***

By the time he was done reading the letter the day was new; the sprinklers had all gone off, the dogs were out sniffing trouble.

A few people stepped out of their houses, cars drove slowly by and there was a refreshing smell of coffee being brewed coming from the house next door.

It always seemed right to start a new story by morning time. ~~

unexpectedly

A poem was left for me, by a stranger. With these words a note: 'you remind me of her.' Nothing else, nothing left.

He aproaches carefully,
There's not one reason for him to rush
Specially not towards the one
Who - in a heartbeat - could 
Represent both
Life and death,


Be his ruin
Or his way out
Of this sort of mess
He's created for
himself.


The long, wild and fearless curls covering her shoulder...


He wants to run his fingers
Through them,
Bury his nose
In the nest of them
He wants to go beyond just
Dreaming, 


There's nothing but
Desire
And consequences
Hovering above his head


There's nothing but passion
Permanently damaging the tissues
That hold his heart
Together...


His mind knows too much


He wishes
He knew nothing
So her eyes were all
He would learn
To know
From now on.

~~~

heroic is.

'What was as light/ as breath/ turns captive/ and still./I grew up and abandoned/my fervor./ I pretended/ I wasn’t heroic./ I turned/ my volume/ down./ I wish someone had told me/ that cynicism may be intelligent/ but enchantment/ is wise.'

I humbly observe the wheel of time surrender and yet still hold on firmly to the steering wheel of desire.

What breath has given, one may never shed in the name of cause. A cause is nothing but the twist of a knob, a knob that may increase or decrease the volume of the unique set of words that perpetually dance around your head,

a cause is just a knob.

Breath can only be taken for the flame that abides in the heart of the box that holds all knobs. These tiny buttons that with a tender pressure return the kindness by caressing you back, these causes that may mean the world but are not the world you breath for... for what breath stands for is something of a divine figure -

something of a beauty that will remain untold.

A colorless heart of strings that when touched just right tangle up in the shape of everything that

smells,

cries and smiles

like love.

and love can be... such a tender thing, so tender it can never be toughen, it can never be broken, it can only embrace.

love is heroic.

***

*

I want me an ocean of understanding

nothing more than my hands can hold,

nothing more than my love can mold;

I want my ocean to wash the world.

*

hopelessly hopeful

*Let it be known, they were addicted to each other.

By the time of their twenty-seventh birthday, they couldn't see any further down the road if not assured by each other's reasonable confidence that everything would be alright.

Romeo and Juliet would be proud.

He looked at her in state of awe, she looked at him in state of bliss.

- There's absolutely nothing that I wouldn't do for you. Nothing that lives within the walls of capacity can never stop me, I'd go beyond that for you, the feeling is this and this is the only thing that is because to be is all there is for us to do and doing anything else is just time-filling time on Earth... I don't want to do that, I want to be this.

- I want to be you. The tremendous insight of you, the skin you live in, the eyes you see the world with. I wanna embrace the very essence of you so I don't have to open my eyes inside of my own self ever again. I want to overflow you with me so I'll become you. I love you like the wind blows, freely, on its own terms and without any given thought. I was given to love you.

Let it be known that they were beyond vice, passion and addiction, they were woven together in a way it was hard to find the end of such rope... It wasn't their fault they loved so much, it was the stars.

The stars?

Yes. The stars in their hearts.

***

picture from here.

The Frailty of Wanting

The frailty of wanting

It all seems easy and reachable

Just because

Wanting is easy and reachable -

While expecting tender thoughts

made of hopes and golden garlands,

To become as reachable

And as vivid

as the feeling of a rough, cold wind

hitting the back of your neck,

Or the hot and harsh grinding of skin

when all you had to do was

to watch where you were going before tripping

and falling

face against the brutal pavement -

The frailty of wanting

equals nothing and equals everything

Because you still wish to feel pain

As much as you wish to be loved

But never wish to see the clear sign of the rope

that ties

One end

to the other.

The Truth Is...

Today I feel like saying the truth and saying it out loud so I can hear it.

The truth is: I know exactly what I want and even though I do know exactly what I want and I can actually name and even tag each and every single individual "thing" I want to happen to me in my life, I can't truly admit it and say it with all the intensity I'm supposed to use whenever I talk about it, specially not out loud!

Wow.

I know it, I feel it, I desire it and I can even taste it in my mouth, but I'm afraid of talking about it.

Why? you will ask because you should.

Well, I'll answer, because it scares me to think that I'll get it all. Because I know down my core that it's all very simple, I know what I want and I'm getting it. Knowing things are frightful. Being sure is fearsome. Having your hands and heart full of what makes you HAPPY is intrinsically, sickeningly, outrageously, dementedly and nervously HARDCORE SCARY, to an extend I don't even want to talk about too much out of fear of what other things I might encounter along the way.

Our world of humanity has been created on that of which we fear and this fear I'm talking about is also the very thing that sets us free.

Yes, I've learned it now, I have. And I'm so proud of myself for finally confessing it to myself, because the other half of the truth is: the rest of the world doesn't matter at all.

If you can't - and listen to this carefully - admit the reality behind your existence to yourself, how can you even acknowledge the existence and co-existence of millions of others around you? Even those you've considered the closest to your kind (whatever you call kind) can never be truly close to you in matter and substance if you don't know what the heck you are!

Do you follow? Of course you do. We are all lost and as lost as we are we are also constantly running away from ourselves, out of fear. But the fear is not the problem. The problem is not facing fear out of the fear you feel when facing fear, do you... perceive me?

Yes you do.

I know I do. I know I'm just talking to myself who happens to be YOU.

Well, anyway. I know what I want. I'm happy about it and this is kinda hurtful. Why? ask away. Because it's painful to know you are actually happy. For the first time you feel the warmth and the cold breeze mingle together in perfect harmony and you know that you are not that wall that will hold things from reaching your own life anymore, you do not stand tall as your own enemy and you never will again. You are proud of what you've learned and nothing can stop you from the things that are about to come your way... Yes.

Say yes, you know why? because you can. That should be the answer to any question, yes because I can.

I can and I am. And that's all that matters.

***

seemingly, more

The sun appeared less severe than a couple of days before, when her hopes were high but extremely uncertain, stepping over unknown grounds that might have been made of anything but dense material. When she stepped over clouds - not grounds - that could have been easily made out of liquid gems, mixed with a relentless dose of dreams that seemed to hit the greater wall of insecurity and slap her right against her left pale cheek.

The sun was set to go down into its final destination that turned out to be a new horizon brought into a new beginning, all over again. So was she. Her eyes seemed a bit hurt, the sunglasses did help. She could walk down the hills while staring at the huge, round and orange ball of fire that slowly made its way down without any problem or obvious struggle.

She strolled by the streets she knew by heart. Each corner she went by knew her as well, they blinked at each other in a sign of mutual respect, they knew each others' secrets and stories, they all knew what she whispered to the cement as she walked by... There was nothing that felt more like home than those pillows made of gray, yellow and blue. It was Hollywood, it was all she knew.

On the same street she would always like to walk through, the strong winds called out for someone else's name she was awfully familiar with.

The light was on across the street, the green man said go, so in her regular rush to make it to the next sidewalk in one piece, she didn't notice a rather acquainted image of a car that had stopped by the light just before she made it to the next safe island. She also didn't recognize the two gentlemen that inside of the vehicle argued about her presence in that very spot. What in the world had they missed? Was it really... her?

As she struggled to fix her shirt that was terribly messy by consequence of the strong winds, the passenger in the car that remained there, waiting, decided to step out, awkwardly sure of himself and extremely pleased by the sight of her. Her shades clumsily fell down the tip of her nose, her hand bag was all twisted and seemed to be there to almost strangle her as she finally lifted her body up from the shirt mending. In a strange move, she brought her shades back up noticing the presence of that man she knew very well before her, big smile, oddly contracted facial muscles, the big arms and shy gentle hands, the silence. No, please, not the silence again...

She knew she had to say something before that light turned green, he knew it was her now and he was sure this time, that was it. It was that feeling all over again now turned golden because of the influence of the sunsetting in the not so far away distance. All the waiting and longing soon enough would turn into mouth watering cravings and they both recognized that the summit of their exceptional story was about to begin its upward spiral, at any moment now.

- Oh, I thought I had lost you there for a second.

Her smile seemed to reflect his feelings exactly.

- Oh no, I thought I had lost you forever.

- You couldn't have.

The man left in the car didn't understand it all very well but appeared to be enjoying the private screening. The light had turned green and the massive flow of cars behind that very particular one showed their signs of distress in the forms of resounding horns and excessive honking. He didn't mind - they didn't mind it either.

The gray eyes that now looked straight into her two dark windows seemed much better placed: right there, inside her thoughts. He finally asked:

- Where are you headed to? We can drop you off.

She didn't want to lose him again.

- Well, I will not insist otherwise...

Those final moments of sunshine were actually worth all the effort spent in keeping them around. The sunglasses were not useful any longer, but they remained still, resting on her now rosy cheeks hiding the wet eyes that had nothing to do with the lost opportunities from the past. Now, she knew better, but he knew best: the final hours didn't feel so fatal anymore and tomorrows were forgotten, at least while that ride lasted.

*picture by me

seemingly...

"why do gods throw flowers all around me?

maybe they wanna hurt my eyes."

Mercedes Gameiro

The water was running slowly down the drain, the sinking feeling fit her hands and her thoughts well in that particular evening. She could let herself be dragged by that water flow down the drain at any minute now but she wouldn't, she respected him too much for that.

His entire self and a bit more than what he ever thought he had was entirely present, right by the door, a few feet away from her entire self even a bit more present than his own: in pain and in relief.

He didn't smile, no. He barely could understand what had just happened. For one to bear a smile - one thinks - one needs to be inside of something - and he wasn't even inside of his own shell. To be entirely honest, she couldn't understand anything either. Her hands still played with the water which got colder and colder, pushing her further and further away from him although all she wanted was to go back to the warmth of the safe rest he provided every time he offered her his shoulders and broad arms to hold her. It all seemed so simple - she knew it - and simple it was, but not in that particular evening. How could anything be simple when she's present? It was just part of who she was, and why not to say, part of his life as well.

He stood still as a rock, silent as a rock, severe as a rock. She stood.

There was a rather cool breeze invading the room, making the soft white curtains flow with it as if nothing could ever match that movement again. That caught her eye. She looked up to see the curtains moving and a soft smile tinted the corner of her mouth with a sweet darker tone of shade that he knew very well. She smiled like that when she was actually happy. He knew that quite well because that's precisely how she greeted him every time she'd see him, with that cornered smile delivering nothing yet revealing it all - at least everything he needed to know.

Taking it as a hint, a clue of what she wanted, he approached her without thinking of the consequences, without measuring his already larger than life by nature acts. He simply opened his mouth and let a soft and unsure tone bring into words what he thought he was thinking:

- I know that smile.

He did know that smile. It was all for him to take it.

- Now, what does that mean?

The smile turned into a small laugh like those she didn't dare to carry for too long.

- It means I like your curtains.

Now it was his turn to smile that all very personal smile he only allowed her to see. They both hadn't realized just what their entire bodies had already figured out before their meeting earlier that day... but hey, It didn't matter because their smiles could take hold of each others' attention in such ways that nothing else seemed to matter.

- Oh, is that what it means then...

By now he had deciphered the illusion and his entire self seemed more comfortable to get closer, yet the water was still running and her hands were already cold and senseless under its stream. He actually thought he knew what she was worried about. She felt the warmth of his presence, the weight of his hands on her arms, his breath that always seemed short and heavy whenever he seemed tense.

- I think I know what you are thinking.

He whispered softly between a deep breath and a kiss on her left cheek, right on the freckle he loved to point out every time they saw each other. Her smile turned into awareness. How can one man, only one, single individual get inside of her thoughts the way he did?

Her cold and numb right hand twisted the water tap while she watched the last drops hitting her clammy pores. She didn't over react, one could say she didn't react at all and that was exactly what got him confused. Or did it?

She reached out for a towel while he still had his hands around her arms. Although his fingers felt soft around her skin, she could feel the brutal necessity he had to understand it all in an almost logical way, he expected a word - anything. As she dried out her hands, she turned around to finally face his saturated eyes staring at her own - something she was truly never afraid of doing, although she couldn't name the reason behind it - after all she was afraid of so many other simpler things that would make her feel weak and sickly admitting.

Her expression didn't change. Her lips, her eyes or cheeks didn't move but he knew exactly what she meant. He nodded as softly as the breeze blowing through the window. He blinked a few times and sorted out his feelings so he could reveal his reasons.

Her words finally came out clearly but not the way he expected them to sound like.

- I'm sorry...

- For what?

- For not being the glamorous woman you needed me to be.

He stepped back for a moment, not because he needed to take a better look at her under the heavy full moon light but simply because he wasn't ready for what he had just heard. He didn't love her simply, he admired whatever it was that came from her and that he couldn't explain how but that kept his jaw dropped, his eyes open wide and his thoughts moonstruck by the heavy burden she would place on her own shoulders but didn't seem to sweat a drop to have it carried around wherever she went. Was it him? Could this heavy and worm-eaten weight have his name on it? Would that be possible? His mind couldn't grasp it.

- Well, I'm sorry then.

- You? For what?

- For making you think that that's what I needed.

She now shifted her sorrow eyes for feminine ones, her hands now looked for his although they remained hidden since the moment he stepped back and away from her in disbelief. He now appeared more certain than ever of everything left unsaid and she... oh well, she couldn't compete with his torturous truthful looks and sighs, half smiles and whole ones. She would give in, as easily and as precisely as she had so many times before, but he would forget how hard she acted from time to time... how tough she played her made up games with her own little brains and heart.

He loved to unplug her diet of low carbs and no soul... she loved to remind him of the fact he was just as hungry as herself seemed to be.

The moon whispered something underneath the dark sky but they wouldn't bother to hear, her light wasn't nearly as inherently powerful as their own anyway.

***