Este amor que contamina

Reina entre nosotros una peligrosa relación, hablar contigo es como domar a un jaguar salvaje que espera inquieto en una jaula. Tus palabras son veneno que acaricia mi oído y me tienta, me tienta a seguirte la corriente. Caminar a tu lado es como rodear a una serpiente en medio del desierto y verte hablar con otra persona es como soportar el frío de la Antártida. Vamos caminando en una cuerda floja, fijándonos en cada paso que damos y compitiendo en quien cae primero.

Voces vivas de amistad resuenan entre los espacios que dejamos vacíos como compañeros, mirar esos lentes de marco negro es como apreciar los nubarrones en el cielo y sostenerte la mirada es como navegar en una tormenta en medio del océano. Tu sonrisa es como una luciérnaga que brilla en la mitad de la oscuridad espantando a todos los fantasmas que por allí rondan. Después de todo nuestra relación es como una bombilla que prende y apaga, que se empaña y se aclara.

Estamos en la cima de una montaña que se nubla, en la que ventea y hace frío, una montaña en la que no para de nevar, en la que los picos de hielo caen sin piedad. Estamos en la mitad de una ciudad olvidada, en ruinas, destruida y empolvada. Estamos dentro de un volcán, la lava cerca de los tobillos subiendo una y otra vez. Estamos en la mitad de una guerra, cada quien de su lado, luchando con arcos y flechas, con tanques y bombas. Tratando de vencer en esta relación venenosa, de bajar por fin de la cuerda floja y de salir de este amor que nos encierra, que nos mantiene unidos el uno al otro, tratando de salir de este adictivo amor que contamina.

Swings

Swings, under the edge of night.

Starting to go high.

Carrying those girls to the sky,

up and down and from left to right.

 

The wind hits their cheeks,

and printed on her face a big smile.

One of them jumps,

the other one laughs.

 

Remember when the swings carried you to the sky.

When the wind blew your hair,

while you smiled, pleased.

Showing those dimples on your cheeks.

 

Don’t forget when you use to throw your head back and let your hair touch the floor,

when your friends pushed you forward.

Because I won’t forget, after that big jump,

the ghostly movement of a swing.

Columpios

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The cat with the yarn

The cat with the yarn, the gray cat that only has to worry on catching his little toy. Just look out the window and see him play unaware of the rest of the world, under a spell. I wish I could be like that cat that once existed and accompanied me through my stormy days, without rain, without going backwards. Just focused on his yarn, as if nothing else exists. The spell of the yarn is  nothing he can avoid, unable to look anywhere else than his precious object. Just can’t be away from it, can’t let go even for a minute. That cat doesn’t pay attention to the cars that pass near him, the yarn has rolled into the street and he tries to catch it, until everything for the little cat disappears.

Except for his yarn, the only object he will chase forever. Go on, my little cat! Until time stops you, but I know it never will because there is no obstacle for you. He would go until the end of time, until the stars fall from the sky. I’ll miss that cat, since I gave him the yarn he spent his days near my house playing with. That’s what makes you happy and someday you’ll catch it. Sometimes I see the gray cat with the yarn in my dreams, his whitish ghost playing with the yarn in my living room at nights, I’ll never forget him. His yarn, his entire world.

IMG_0930

Taken from: url

Yarn