Are you sure?
Yes, a thousand times yes.
Fearlessness
"Such fearlessness exists only in the complete calm that can no longer be shaken by events expected of the future."
https://www.themarginalian.org/2019/02/25/love-and-saint-augustine-hannah-arendt
With you I felt fearlessness. Not all the time, not inequivocally, but often. When fear strikes, and I think of those moments where there was a certainty that you wanted me, that I wanted you, then, I feel calm.
There were moments of unrest. But mostly, that was what defined my soul when I walked through your door. A fearless calm. And by not being afraid, we completed each other.
If only I was brave enough to make it our Life, rather than just moments.
I wonder
Had I kept your photos, what difference would it make to my sorrow?
While now I long for those glimpses of connection and palpable memories, it's just an escape.
Whether I would have pictures or not, I would always be missing you like hell. And not missing the yesterday, but the what if we could be living today.
A today full of pictures, new memories each day, and growing love till we grow old. Hopefully, that's what you found already. That's a second wonder to which the answer I will never know.
And again
I wonder, I dream.
I know not how we came to be face to face. But we are. And we pause, looking into each other eyes, waiting for the other to make the first move. We keep staring, my hand slowly reaches your waist. You do not step away, neither do you come forward. As I pull my arm, you stand tall, and it is me impelled to step an inch closer.
You feel me breathe close to you, and in that moment, you close your eyes, slightly whisper, and allow yourself to feel my grasp. My other hand holds your face, caresses it. Your eyes water so slightly, I dry those tears. You make the gesture as if to kiss my hand. But I hold your head, you wrap your hands around me, and we kiss. A profound kiss. A redemptive kiss. An everlasting kiss.
Amaro fare niente
“Para falar ao vento bastam palavras, para falar ao coração são necessárias acções.”
Not knowing
It's my fault. But I just wish it's a wonderful celebration, surrounded by all your loved ones. The only thing I do know, I'm no longer one. My fault.
What about, simply,
Happy birthday.
It would suffice to write. Would I be forgiven for saying it from so afar?
What to say
Should not be the question, but rather what to do.
And the answer would be simple. Board the right plane and head to where your heart his.
That would be a proper way to actually mean the words.
Of course, if it would still mean anything to you. In all likelihood, it would actually just be another nuissance, another spoiling of what I hope is a joyful birthday.
And so, I do nothing. No boarding plane, no letter written, no calling, no message on the mobile, no contact on social networks. Nothing.
In summary, after all these years I keep doing nothing. What a coward.
There are
Many places in the world I'd want to visit with you.
It's not about what we visit. It's about the journey there: your head resting in my shoulder in the plane, your hand resting in my leg on the car, my arms around you when we're sailing. The thrill of planning, the absence of a map, the restless days and the sleepless nights. The comfort of splurge, and the consolation of worn shoes. Contemplating the stars under a blanket, watching the sunrise at a summit. Wandering a city in search of that famous museum, strolling through a desert seeking for a unique landscape.
Anywhere I would be in the world with you, I'd feel home.
Thinking
Over thinking things. Thinking things over.
Thoughts come through randomly.
Sometimes I think about the shape of your shoulders. Others on the contour of your cheeks. Today I found myself remembering your bottom. Could not help. The counter light while you spoke to some stranger on the phone. Standing against the light, all shadows through the light dress. My eye went from the shoe, through the ankle, onto the knee, up the leg, and stared directly. And then my thoughts shift to a massage. How sitting on your back, desiring you yet not being able to go further than feeling the shape and texture. Then mind jumps to a picture. Where you sent me that same countour, unexpectedly, naked, free, telling me it can be mine. Finally, I enter fantasy. Fantasy it was, but as you said once, "this is real". And indeed, it felt. It still feels. Going beyond what once was just a massage. Kissing your neck. Contemplating how you would place your head on the pillow, eyes closed, your back naked. Moaning softly, as in saying "go ahead". And then whispering "don't stop" as I dare pulling your underwear. There are many ecstasy memories, about every single detail. But today, I remember that as I penetrated you, and got my head close to yours, held your hand strongly, while you grasped it, I could feel that texture, that shape, that contour molding to my waist. Multiplying the fondness of the moment. Contributing to the absolute melt.
It should be other thoughts, other memories. Today, it was this one. These ones also exist. A fantasy that could be real, everyday. Another glimpse at how i wasted so much more I never even gave the chance to know, feel, experiment, discover. Knowing you wanted to do so with me. Breaking boundaries, while going through the journey together.
Over thinking? Everyday. Every detail.
вишива́нка
You always looked dazzling dressed to honour your home country.
And I keep going back to the pictures of you, your braids, your sweet eyes, your soft glow.
Things i could do
Write a song
Create a poem
Reconnect on linkedin
Connect on facebook
Message through whatsapp
Send a letter
Buy a gift
Actually, for once in my life, show up
Give you a phone call
And then, I do nothing. And leave others to actually care for you. The ones that really care, while I keep being what i always was: an insensible bastard.
Daniel, Daniel
"Daniel, Daniel,...". You murmured in a subdued manner. Drowsy, but even so, full of love.
I hated awaking you, but those moments, they were the softest and truest.
You whispered my name, not wanting to wake up, but ready to embrace my love.
What I regret most are failures of kindness
The flight path was cloudy. Again, I looked at the sunset, knowing you'd see none. I fell asleep. I woke up and saw the gulf of biscay.
And it stroke me. And a list jumped through my list.
I have many regrets, but the ones that torched me are all the small opportunities I could have brought joy and light.
You would have taken a flight from somewhere in the coast. You were sacrificing so I would have company in my journey. It would have been not only easy but desirable. And I failed to make it possible.
But even smaller ones, all lost opportunities, all regrets, all failures of kindness towards you.
You invited me to a concert cycle. I missed out. Failed, even if I wanted to appreciate art together with you.
I obnoxiously replied to your attentive and grateful sms for a restaurant recommendation. A gesture I failed to correspond to.
I rejected in the most vile fashion your offer for a ride, abandoning you in the airport parking. When I could have avoided carrying heavy luggage by myself, and make you know how your gesture was touching my heart.
I avoided friending you on social networks in due time, when you were open to showing your world. Just because of my own silliness.
I erased all traces off your pictures and messages, all sent in a tender and warm-hearted fashion. And not only now I have an irreparable void, I made you feel like I didn't appreciate and contemplate every single pixel and letter.
I always used the visitor's bathroom. You opened your house, your room, your bed, I never felt a stranger, and yet, there I was, behaving myself as if I were one.
You opened bottles of wine, and I did not accompany you in tasting that nectar. You were offering the best of you and it was so easy, and I stopped myself from following. Why?
I would leave early while your bed was warm, I would arrive late in the middle of the cold. So many times I could have given you additional hours of well needed sleep.
I let you down not going with you to pick your car, so you would not feel alone. It would have been not just a gesture of appreciation, but a moment to support you for real, and I failed it.
I could have opened the windows. It was height of summer, there was not even a single breeze to allow you to breathe. The sweat would have been more bearable, and you would have felt more welcome.
I never sent you enough postcards. I knew your address. I know for sure you would have felt a warmth and butterflies that I so much wished to give you. Why not?
And so many perfect moments I spoiled for being stubborn, not wanting to show I cared, trying to reject my true feelings, making you always suffer, feel rejected, abandoned, when all I wanted was to hold you close and whisper in your ear. So many moments of lust I would have precluded so I could hold your waist while we cooked, so we could talk, and cry, and laugh, and just relax together. Moments where I would have respected you and your wishes, take care of your body, and know my limits.
I failed being kind to you, and you still loved me. What would have happened if I had been just a little nicer, even slightly more human being, able to care for you?
If nothing else, I would have shown you Biarritz, and look out of the plane tonight and remember good things, rather than feel regret.
Traüme
Lass uns Glück treffen, wo wir fröhlich sein können.
Always wanted to see Firenze through your eyes... today could be the day, but again, I lost the train so long ago.
And counting the minutes. I am also on the wrong side of the window, but shall feel again that I'll be less than a few miles away.
I can't be in peace, but I'll feel a glimpse of it.
Counting the hours to my fly over my Eden
At first flash of Eden
We raced down to the sea
Standing there on freedom's shore
Waiting for the sun
Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting
Waiting for you to come along
Waiting for you to hear my song
Waiting for you to come along
Waiting for you to tell me what went wrong
This is the strangest life I've ever known
Being drunk
Can/should it be an excuse to pour my heart out?
To say how much I miss you, what I would give for just a second to see you, feel you, touch you, hear you, breathe you in?
It can't be an excuse. It does not become one. And still, I does not stop me thinking about you.
I would like to say I miss you
But don't know how, when, what, and most importantly why.
I just do miss you, and would like to say it. And every time I travel I just remember how full my heart was every time I would land into your arms after a flight.
The questions are always the same.
Why do I catch the wrong flight? Will you feel I am trying to see you from above?