The letter you will never read

Dear dear love of mine,

To answer your question, yes, I’ve thought of you, more than I’ve wished I’d do. I’ve tried to teach myself to see the world in a different way, a way I can call my own. If I must be honest, I shall confess I much rather the way the world looks through your eyes. Every night I lay on my bed, and open my window, and not a night passes by without the stars whispering to me the story of us. It is hard to fall asleep without your silence next to mine or your soft palm against my cheek. You felt so right, and the idea of your arm wrapped around my waist felt like home. I ask you, the man with all the answers to my curious questions, can a girl be a stranger among everyone that’s ever seen her grow old?  Yes my love, I’ve dreamt of you, hoping you, too, would dream about me. At times I feel I’m about to ignite from the sole thought of you not ever holding me in your arms. I am an ember, red and about to burn everything to dust. Teaching myself to breath is what I do when I’m not thinking about you. It is proper to say I am homeless. Everyone is a stranger, and I, too, am a stranger to them. I often wonder if I’ll ever be able to show me to them like I showed you. The voice inside my head almost immediately answers – No.-I erase you and rebuild you in my mind, and each and every time I think I’ve fallen out of love, I happen to realize I have just fallen even deeper in love. Will this ever go away? How I wish it would! How I wish I wouldn’t have to wish it would… Not a day passes by when I don’t have to fight hard the urge to write you back. It is oh so hard to keep myself away, yet it is the better than coming back to what I already know awaits. Never had I done such a difficult thing. Never had I wished to be in somebody’s arms like this. Yet tonight, my very dear love, I’ll close my curtain and dream there was never such thing to miss. 

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Cuando sueño

Como si no hubiera mañana, me recuesto sobre mi cama y sueño. Sueño con desentumir mis alas, con noches de desvelo y con colores más variados que los del arcoiris y todas sus combinaciones. Invento mis propios colores y mis propias melodías y hay veces que puedo hacer a todo el mundo desaparecer como hasta ahora lo he conocido y creo mi propio mundo. Sueño con  hacer converger mis dos realidades y dejar de ser yo fragmentada en cada una de ellas. No imagino el día en que pueda llegar al final de aquella carretera que hace tiempo empecé a trazar, eso no, pero imagino todo lo que mientras conduzca por ella puede pasar y de vez en cuando me detengo en algún mirador a la mitad, justo cuando el sol se está por ocultar. Veo todo el camino recorrido y todo lo que pasó que jamás pensé que pasaría y me emociono como una chiquilla en la mañana de Navidad al imaginar todo a lo que esa carretera aún me ha de llevar. Y me subo al carro y enciendo el motor y acelero, a veces olvidando que no debo ir tan deprisa, pero el aire sobre mi cara me intoxica y quiero más y más y tengo que hacer un esfuerzo por recordarme que de vez en cuando debo frenar para no alejarme demasiado, para no pasarme la señal, alguna señal y olvidar llegar a dónde debo llegar.  Y el mundo ya no es ese lugar tenebroso y desconocido, sino un viejo conocido al que había olvidado saludar y que me espera con los brazos abiertos para que lo vuelva a abrazar. Y entonces recuerdo que sigo recostada sobre mi cama y a veces he llegado a creer que me he quedado ciega o que he muerto, porque detrás de mis párpados una paleta de óleos ha tomado el lugar de aquella oscuridad y pienso si será posible que en esos momentos esté más cerca del cielo que de mi pequeño infierno. Y el frío que entra por mi ventana me recuerda que el infierno no se ha ido, pero que hay pedazos de cielo entre él o infierno entre pedazos de cielo. Un rastro de sonrisa atraviesa mi cara y justo entonces me quedo dormida y quizás, sólo quizás, vuelvo a soñar. 

That you exist

That you exist is what I want to believe. That there is more to you than these shadows coming back to me as dreams. That you were more than my lonely mind’s companion during those dark but oh so beautiful hours. That is what I want to believe. I sit still in traffic as I wait for car lights to take the place of sunlight, and I wonder if you were really here. I imagine your laughter and those sleepy eyes with your boyish smile and try to place them in a place I know, in a place that seems real. I am drowning between flashes of yellow and red, not quite aware I am. As I look around me, I see, in the backseat, the little girl staring at what could be stars if it wasn’t so bright because of the city lights, and remember, not so long ago, I used to be the girl playing to catch stars. I look at the sky and wonder if it is possible you are among them in a place I can’t see, staring back at me, because there is no place around me where you could possibly be. And the beginning of us comes back in reverse, as days seem like months, maybe years, and everything that was real seems more and more unreal. That what happened to you didn’t erase me at all, that you leaving like you did doesn’t make any of it go away… that somewhere, someday, you and I will once again meet, but most of all, that somewhere out there, you exist. That, is what I want to believe. 

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