The gravity of feeling

I was a bad boy because I broke your heart and mistreated you a lot, and I'm still a bad boy because I've also been accused of manipulating, of being narcissistic, of using someone, of being dark, and apparently not loving anyone.

I swore I was going to be good to you but I was wrong, I couldn't keep up, but I hope you understand that I didn't mean to be rude, or burn the possibilities of your love, or tell you harsh phrases that played at abuse.

I confess that a long time ago I made a tape with the song Creep, and I wanted to send it to you with a bouquet of flowers. But I think that the right moment crossed with good sense, and it didn't happen. It would have been very sad if that dedicated idea had reached you. The truth is that since I was a teenager I don't really know how to conquer women, because for me they are an anxious mystery and also a desire not to be alone. My education is about selfishness and wanting to be loved. Therefore, do you understand that I have demands that don't start well? That's why my inexperience turns into frustration, and frustration into fear, and that fear into rudeness and apathy, and all of it into depression.

Yeah, I wasn't around and you're fucking special. I say it humming.

That's why I'm wrong, that's why I'm a piece of shit.

But I stop. 

This fall of bringing evil with words should not be a springboard of self-pity. I open my hands under the moon, and I tell you, yes I'm a bad boy. But also a good boy. 

Because there are sweet memories, because I surrendered to your heart, and you were a sincere encounter with heaven. Yes, I was in so deep, I was such a fool for you and the taste of your love.

I am true.

I come out of the shadows, I stand near the fire, and I admit that I have a testimony. I was close to you for several years because I loved you so much at first, but then I didn't know how to hold you with the gravity of this planet and allow us to grow. 

The color that then could dye us was yellow.

Then I lived blue.

Today I manifest red.

I faded to you, and I was able to enter into your desire for us to be immortal. And I believe we were. But the strange time came where we were to follow on separate lines.

I thought the world of us: vast and high, on wings of Icarus, and with marble pedestal.

Sweetheart, you were my first great love when I was twenty three, in a dream wrapped around your fingers.

Today I wish for your peace and your growth. We were a close breath, and that was creation so free.

Hugs took on us. Love new for our fate.

Kissing you infected

I have an engine where my voice has glances for what is to come, I want to grasp the future where my vital song pretends to be a dance I offer you to cut the distance, and it moves like the flame of your two-syllable name. Time caught in breaths, moving the sound, facing to love, and seeking to be loved back. It costs a lot to say the verb to love, but perhaps the will of my emotions deserves to be helped by charity and mercy.

You know, this Thursday 28th I made a bet because I had many childish doubts. In a moment I could do as I always do, retrace my steps and keep myself in my familiar zone. But with the uncertainty of being under the silence, uncaused for all intents and purposes, and hidden among the bits and waves of electric space, I chose the movement of going near you to manifest. I traveled to a bench on the Residencial, in the dark heat of a night, at half-past nine o'clock. A straight pedestrian walkway, lights on round lampposts, many walking their pets. And I rained. I delivered with a great desire my honesty. I told you, little comrade, that you were a surprise of the fate of all my hearts because in a week you had led me to the temptation to dream the future, to imagine the light of day as a consequence of your smile, and that my ocean of life was asking your permission to bite you and kiss you. In the rarity of being lined paper with a grid, this city of rivers is the frame for you guapa infinita.

And my voice concludes that everything I did and everything to come is a contagion of loving and being loved. I heard you sincere, we are both in different spaces, you smile but you must rebuild, I seem ready, so, it won't happen today or soon. And a list of words behind words appears.

What do I have to tell you?

These are strange times, where immaterial socialism brings me a wild-haired comrade. And I rain to sprout as nature and life. I rain being me and for me, come what may, I'm on a great pinnacle to live, maybe I always have been. And loneliness is natural and a good song.