You always have a choice

Constrained by time and space. And when you spend time squeezing yourself into a corner, choices run out.

I don't have a choice anymore. I just sit, numb, tired, exhausted, my back against the wall looking onto the roads that led me to this dead end.

People say I am not around

And they are right. Physically I am here. But my soul is elsewhere. 

Lost, as it can no longer find you. 

Moving on

Holding back

 

More than sometimes

I remain contemplating the few reminiscences that are available to me of your presence, lightness, joy.

And I know someday even those might fade, unannounced. 

Until then, I remain in silence,  contemplating.  If only I' d have the guts, the courage, to be otherwise. To do otherwise. But I shall not say or do anything for my own selfish purposes. 

I have been selfish enough, no matter how much I try to justify, no matter how much I try to forgive myself.

Stepping on the train

I don't get the urge I have in a car of driving your direction, or that I have in a airport to step on a plane towards you 

But I do get myself transported to a train station where you'd be waiting. The feeling of home started the moment I'd stepped in. And preferred those times where we'd kiss right away. Sometimes, we did not. What a waste.

It was a short ride, but one where I would feel your simple, pure happiness. I could feel you were genuinely feeling good. Sometimes tired, sometimes annoyed, but knowing that in a few minutes we would be making up, hugging, forgetting the world around us.

I miss you. I really do. Sometimes I think of meeting you just once, to unleash all this sorrow. But then I realize what I miss is not a moment. It is the many moments.  I would be lying if I would say I wouldn't want to sleep next to you. But perhaps just stepping out of the train and riding alongside for a few minutes would ease the pain. 

Perhaps. And speaking to you could also ease the pain. But I would miss you even more. That's why I can't bring myself to send you a mere message. Stepping on a train is meaningless without exiting. Exiting a train is meaningless without you waiting. You waiting is meaningless without us talking. Us talking is meaningless without driving home. Driving home is meaningless without walking upstairs. Walking upstairs is meaningless without entering through the door. Entering through the door is meaningless without pushing you against the wall. Pushing you against the wall is meaningless without you grabbing my head and lowering it. And that is meaningless without stripping you. And stripping you is meaningless without falling on the bed. And falling on the bed is meaningless without kissing passionately. And kissing passionately is always meaningful, no matter what comes next.

Guess that's what I miss most. Your kiss, and everything that means.

Love being on the train, it brings me back to you. But don't look towards stepping out on the wrong station.

(Here are we, one magical moment 

Such is the stuff, from where dreams are woven)

The next day

I did it right. It should have been every day since. A proper dinner, at a lovely location, like we were - two in love, becoming one in a few hours. Again.

If there was some angst the night before, on the next there was no hesitation, no holding back. We both could finally quench our thirst, explore all bits and pieces that were the target of our curiosity, previously held in dreams rather than reality.

We loved each other for hours. 

And then again, I left. You made it easy to do so, even if I knew it was hard for you. And it would have made sense if I had been brave, courageous, have a shred of integrity, rather than making it feel like a tryst. For me it wasn't, but what other perception would you have looking back?

Maybe for that reason, we haven't spoken since. You feel I didn't care and don't suffer as much as you.

I think now I am suffering even more. You lost me. But I lost you.

If only the next day would have been every day since.

(I remember bits and pieces of us making love, and some might have been from that second night. Eitherway, what's the use of placing moments in memories, rather 5han making new ones?)

Touched heaven

then ran away.

Just a coward. An undeserving, pitiful coward.

5 years

 

The wait

Was preceded of an event. I heard a man talking about his Olive trees and retirement plans. I danced mildly, I drank maybe a drink, did some small talk. I was there in person, but in spirit I was somewhere above the clouds, likely in between Luxembourg and Geneva. 

Cannot recall with precision, but remember there had been a consideration concerning parking - whether I should walk back home, or have the car at hand. I surely did want to be on time, sharp, as there was an unascertained agreement.  I guess nowadays I could have just pinpointed my location, but that would certainly not have made the tension boil, perhaps not bring the night to its apogee. 

I suspect you wanted to make me wait. Or maybe you did not know I was tense throughout. It could have been better to meet you at the welcoming area, but you would probably not have kissed me. I don't actually remember if we kissed, I do remember picking your luggage and putting it in the trunk.

I do not remember details, but I remember the build up. The wait. And, most certainly, the following haste through the serene shores of the Leman.  

We could wait no more.

I dream of landscapes

rainy, sunny, at some point with some sort of mist, while we gently walk, hand in hand.

around us, a bit of cold, with gentle gusts of wind. our boots crushing fallen branches, walking over streams, with small jumps, stepping on a stone at a time. close to losing balance, quickly propping up each other, each time.

the slight emotion of waiting felt like this. I dreamed of the landscape. I dreamed of meeting you. I dreamed of our drive. I felt a peaceful anticipation, not knowing it would be the day.

I dreamed a dream in time gone by.  Hope was high, life worth living. 
And dreamt of being forgiven. 

You did it. But I was unkind, selfish.  And that dreamt landscape was no longer about a quiet meadow - I brought upon us a storm we could not weather. 

5 years. I was softly waiting. 

I look at my wrist

See the hours pass, the minutes pass, no second pointer.

Time does fly. But it still feels like it stopped ever since.

Can't recall if there were any exchanges the night before. But most likely, I fell asleep thinking of you.  Just like most of the nights until then and since then.

Most likely I did not think I was 24h away from the no turning back point. Although, we were probably long past it. 

My wrist used to have a clock. Nowadays, it is empty. Just like everytime I would hold your wrist, it would be naked.

Who speaks? Who listens?

Nothing is ever over

life breathes life in its turn

Sometimes the people listen

Sometimes the people learn

With a quiet whisper

I send a curse upon the day

that never used the Sun to see

the light.

We cannot see the stars

But it does not mean they are not there.

Am I a good man?

By all standards, not even a man, just a wreck.

Yet again

Did nothing. Another year goes by, and I stood by.

An hello, a call, a message, a letter. I stead, nothing. Just subtle internet connections, if you are even remotely realizing. 

I will wait. Someday, one beautiful day, i'll have a signal that it is ok to at least say I have not forgotten you, I miss you, and that even we are not together, and these are the days of our lives apart, we still exist as human beings.

Simply the best

But one thing is true

When I look and I find I still love you

If I would be bold enough

or simply decent enough. would be singing to you in a few hours.

 

instead, i am waking up in the middle of the night, just thinking of you, and how I miss yet another birthday, how I miss another opportunity of making sure you have a lovely day. 

I know you'll have it, either way. 

After the rain comes sun

After the sun comes rain again

When I first saw you, I was deep in clear blue water

The sun was shining, calling me to come and see you

I touched your soft skin and you jumped in with your eyes closed

And a smile upon your face

Você vem, você vai, você vem e cai

E vem aqui pra cá porque eu quero te beijar na sua boca

Que coisa louca

Vem aqui pra cá porque eu quero te beijar na sua boca

Ai que boca gostosa

Another night

Another dream. This one, for some season, was even more real. 

No innuendos, no strong occurrences. Just something to comfort my heart.  I saw you in the crowd, and while you were surprised at seeing me, you just smiled. One of your broad, pure, ingenuous, meaningful smiles.  

You seemed genuinely happy to see me, interacting the least possible, a little taken aback after we kissed in the cheek as two friends that haven't met long ago, but always, always smiling. Your eyes shining. As if to say, it is a new beginning. 

I woke up, certain that we had just met, but that a moment alone would eventually follow, lighthearted, with so much to catch up on.

I woke up, my heart full of joy, because you smiled, rather than hating, bashing, running. 

I woke up with hope.

Thank you. Wherever you are, you already made my day.

Heavens know

i am miserable now.

 

Years go by.

 

A whole life

So lonely

Another day

Another missed opportunity to celebrate with you - your traditions, your joy, your pride.  Do not remember if I ever saw you wear your vyshyvanka. 

I am sure you would have looked wonderful, but then again - you were wonderful every single day: it was not about what you wore, it was always about what you were. 

I should have embraced you, not miss any opportunities.

Another hotel room

Another empty bed.

Rien ne vas plus

And yet, here I am. Still driving aimlessly, North, South, through the plaques that point to the East. Towards you. 

But I keep driving. Aimlessly. Without a word from you.

I know

I feel it, therefore I know - you are gone into someone elses arms.

Maybe that will mean, one day, you might say hello.

And you always will have me at hello.

Vanishing

I feel like I am becoming the empty shell. A lost, faded memory in your eyes, mind and soul.

And I deserve the wrongs, you deserve the rights. Forgetting me is healing. While I, I shall suffer forever. First, forget you would not ease the pain. Second, the pain would not ease because I cannot forget - yiu are engraved in my soul, like a fire burning through my flesh.

We were never meant to be apart

Yet, we are.

(There was a place for me inside your heart)

Long nights

No peace.  You told me it would be this way, and not knowing does make it worse each day.

Never?

 

I was afraid.

 Now, I am suffering.

I am sometimes hopeless

Feeling I will no longer have news of your whereabouts in my entire life. That you will not want any news of myself for the rest of your life.

As I flew past you today, I woke up, away from the window. And when looking at the map with your address, I wondered - would you even be living in the same place? How has life changed?

All questions will go unanswered. Just like the other million dollar question to myself: what the f*ck am i doing with my life? I will not see you ever again.

Memory Flash

Flushed - i cannot remember the first time I drove you in my car, can't remember the first time you drove in yours. 

I can recall how, confined on metal and glass, we felt protected from the world. I have glimpses of your smiling as I abandoned my hand in your legs, while we sped through mountains, lakes and fields. I still hear the songs I would choose specifically for us to hear.

But I do not remember the first time. And yet I know it was special.

Will we ever drive aimlessly together again?

Sipping wine, kissing under the moonlight.

we'd surely be happy here.

 

Let's go to bed

You showed me your room once, but I was not given entry. 

And then one day, out of the blue, you said it: let's go to the bed. The first time we were fully naked, feeling every pore of our skin breathing onto each other. 

And my mind was singing: Breathe out, so I can breathe you in.  We were making love. I was feeling you. Even if we did not become one on that afternoon, I felt you entirely, we did not know where one body started, where the other ended. 

Scientists say people never actually touch - atoms always have a distance between them. But we knew better: our energy was interwined, our matter was in another dimension, and our Love was infinite.

(And even if I got the chance of a window seat, there were thick clouds between us. But there was a sunset above us. Did you feel it?)

I think about you all the time

But it becomes unbearable when I'm at the airport, knowing I'll fly over rather than flying in.

(And Lufthansa robs me of the right of looking out the window, remembering our everlong places, where happiness was real, where Love was true. Or maybe, I am just making excuses, because I should not be in this flight, I should be landing and running into your arms. (As if you would be waiting - dumb of me)) 

Perdi a luz do teu viver

 

Our Love was our creation

Like all the great creations of humanity, love is twofold: it is the supreme happiness and the supreme misfortune… Lovers pass constantly from rapture to despair, from sadness to joy, from wrath to tenderness, from desperation to sensuality… The lover is perpetually driven by contradictory emotions. Popular language, in all times and all places, abounds in expressions that describe the vulnerability of a person in love: love is a wound, an injury. But as St. John of the Cross says, it is “a wound that is a gift,” a “gentle cautery,” a “delightful wound.” Yes, love is a flower of blood. It is also a talisman: the vulnerability of lovers protects them. Their shield is their lack of defense; their armor is their nakedness.

[…]

Yet despite all the ills and misfortunes it brings, we always endeavor to love and be loved. Love is the closest thing on this earth to the beatitude of the blessed.

Memories

Women, as some witty Frenchman once put it, inspire us with the desire to do masterpieces and always prevent us from carrying them out.

Doesn't make it any better

 

(And I was wrong)

And then, I found

She never celebrated, therefore I would not have know. 

My grandmother's birthday was on the 24th of May. 

And I will never get to share that with you.