At times I don't know who I am
What do I want?
What do I say?
What do I think? What do I do?
I'm a cluster of bad decissions,
of impuslivity and overthinking
at the wrong times
I pawn my heart to whom I mustn't, and take it away from whomever dares buy it
I'm the selfishness of early childhood,
the stubburness of adolescence.
I'm the laughter of the insane,
the silence of noise,
the personification of incoherence, and I've come to substract sense from this world obsessed with false truth
I'm the definition of what can't be defined
I'm the abstraction of the concrete
I am all, absolutely all,
but one thing
I am not me

I'm sorry I didn't tell you at first.
I'm sorry I took my time.
I'm sorry I'm not your age.
I'm sorry we're apart.

I'm sorry we barely talk now.
I'm sorry you can't see me smile.
I'm sorry I haven't kissed you yet.
I'm sorry I sometimes make you mad.

I'm sorry I think of you all day.
I'm sorry I dream of you all night.
I'm sorry I whisper your name.
I'm sorry I can't get you off my mind.

I'm sorry I love you so much.
I'm sorry you are my life.
I'm sorry I'll never let you go.
I'm sorry I fell for your charm.

This is what we wanted all along;
to be with each other. Nothing can go wrong.
Now that I'm here sitting by your side
everyone else is gone. It's just you and I.

My arms wrapped around you. Your head lies on my chest.
My lips make their way to your forehead, and kiss it tenderly.
You look up to me, staring into my eyes. I can see the love swimming in your heart.
My lips draw a smile, and then say "I love you". We cuddle again as you add "I love you too".

You turn around to face me. I can only smile at you.
You come in close and kiss me. I hug you as you do.
Our bodies feel the heat of our ever so passionate souls.
We keep on kissing untill our lips bleed our love.

No walls to separate us. No obstacles for lust.
The only witnesses: the blankets and our song.
Your hands on my body. My wicked grin. A choir of angels, and the symptoms of spring.

Again we lie, side by side.
I stare into your eyes. You stare into mine.
No one can erase the smile imprinted on my face.
It's all because of you, my darling. My heart is in it's place.

December 21, 2012.
A day feared by many, mocked by some, and ignored by others.
To me? It's the end of this world.
This world where I live in constant paranoia,
in constant fear of not being able to achieve what I've set myself to.
Fearing I'm not good enough. Just expecting everything to fall into place.

Will she still love me in the morning?
Will I make it through today?
Will I survive the sleep?
That kind of things.

To me it's the end of this world.
This world where we see hunger everywhere we look.
Poberty in every corner.
Racism. Intolerance. Unfounded hatred towards others.
Aren't we one same race? Aren't we part of the same planet?

Killings. Bullying. Barbarism. Carnage.
And you call yourself a superior being with the capacity to reason?
Not only do you **** your brother but also your home.
To me it's the end of this world.

December 21, 2012.
The date I will make a change on myself.
The mayans didn't predict the end of the world. They predicted a new beginning.
Embrace it. Live it. *Be it.

Lets start to make this right.

Remember your last words to me?
I sure can't forget them.
You knew where to hit to make me hurt for real,
and you went for it.

I tried to keep my cool.
For every attack you sent my way,
I swallowed my pride, and took it like a man.
I played without defense or offense.
I could not win. I didn't want to.
I just wanted it to be over.

Eventually it was, but not before you delivered the final blow.
The "coup de grâce", as the french would say.
I was done. Finished. Hurt.

I don't blame you for what you did.
You played a hurtful game, and won.
I'm not the same person I was before that day.
I wish you no bad, but I wish you no good either.

Jennifer.
My sweet obsession.
My love impossible.
My gorgeous, little sin.

I see you every day and night.
I'm sure not to miss a thing.
I'd give up all the money I have
to be with you, my dear.

I see you every day and night,
but you sure can't see me.
I wish we could meet some other way
other than this cold screen.

I see what you do all day long.
I hear your sweet voice fade slowly away.
I know what you like. I know what you crave.
If you ever got it you wouldn't be the same.

I still don't know the color of your eyes,
or the tone of your sweet lips,
but I can't say I don't enjoy
this twisted, little sin.

So, dear. My dear Jennifer.
Hang on a little longer.
Not even I know what comes next.
It's all for us to wonder.

As I've grown up I've been turning bitter.
Life isn't as easy as it once seemed.
You gotta go to school to get a job.
You gotta get a job to earn basic needs.
You gotta pay taxes to keep those needs.
Kids just have it so much better.

I remember being a kid, and not having a single worry on my mind.
I would just go outside and play, or grab the first thing I saw, and pretend it was something else.
A couch could become a fortress.
A blanket over your head was a secret hideout.
A twig could be the strongest of swords.
Every day was really an adventure.

Now that I'm 21 a couch is for resting after a hard day at work.
A blanket's only purpose is to keep you from the cold.
Twigs are something you step on without even noticing.
Every day is just another burden on our backs.

Can someone please tell me why is everything so dull now?
Why do we lose our sense of wonder?
Why can't I dance in the rain without worrying about catching a cold?
Why can't I get inside a cardborad box, and pretend it's a castle?

I'm sick of being a "grown up".
I wanna be a kid!
I want to be amazed by the colour of the flowers.
I want to feel afraid when it's stormy outside.
I want to play with a puppy because it's fluffy and playful.
I want to throw a tantrum when I don't get my way.

I shan't be the only one. Lets all be kids again!
Lets hide under the table.
Get scared of the monster who lurks in your closet.
Cry from time to time for no reason.
Use a night light when you go to bed.
Buy some toys, and play with them.
Eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Feel like a total rebel for doing so on the couch.
Watch cartoons early in the morning with your pijamas on.
Try to stay awake all night, and fall asleep before 11.

Every time I see a kid, I just can't help to smile.
It's not because they're cute, but because I'm jealous of them.
They live without worries, without thinking of what will happen tomorrow.
I wish I could be like them.
I want to be a kid again.

La mujer que yo amo
No es quien crees que es
Le escribo poemas a diario
Le dedico las palabras más bellas del diccionario
Mas no entiende el trasfondo
No ve más allá de la superficie

La mujer que yo amo
No conoce el amor
Acepta amores de cama
Amores de cuerpos desnudos
De sudorosas cabelleras
De sucias sábanas y vacíos amaneceres

La mujer que yo amo
Me ama de vuelta
Pero no conoce el alcance de mi amor
No quiere verlo o no se da cuenta
Un trago o un viaje le bastan
Para caer en brazos de otro hombre

Conmigo desahoga sus penas
Conmigo llora su soledad y su miseria
Conmigo habla hasta que los segundos se tornan horas
Pero no soy yo su salvación

La mujer que yo amo
Nunca cae en mis brazos
Aquellos que la han de proteger
Aquellos que la envuelven con el calor de una fogata en un frío y apartado bosque
Aquellos que sostienen las piezas de su roto corazón juntos en su lugar

La mujer que yo amo
No es quien crees que es

Las palabras eran balas que disparaba con los dedos.
Acariciaba las teclas de la máquina de escribir con delicadeza y pasión.
Vertía sus emociones, sus desgracias, sus alegrías, sus dolores, todas en una blanca hoja de papel.
La tinta nunca dejaba de correr.
Mayúsculas y minúsculas.
Puntos, comas y acentos.
Letras, números y símbolos.
Un teclado completo para experimentar.
Combinaciones de letras, de palabras, de sentimientos, de ideas.
Un libro o un poema.
Una canción o una novela.
Un ensayo o un sólo verso.
El escribía y tecleaba, y tecleaba y escribía.
Escribía para sí.
Escribía para todos.
Escribía para ella, sobre todo.
Y tecleaba y escribía.
Y sus dedos no cansaban.
Su lírica no dormía.
La prosa que antes sostenía.
El epíteto que añoraba.
Y sus lágrimas palabras.
Y su sangre tinta en verso.
El latir de su corazón marca el ritmo del tecleo.
Y escribía y tecleaba.
Mente llena de problemas, de ideas, de emociones, de fantasía.
La realidad se torna inefable.
Las palabras aún fluyen.
Los sentimientos se escabullen y se esconden en una rima.
Ella se disfraza en papel de apología.
Y tecleaba y escribía, y escribía y tecleaba.

V**engeance. I've thought about it once or twice before. To be honest, it was a recurring thought for a while. Now I'm not so sure if I want it.

I hated you for what you did to me. You hurt me really bad. You took advantage of my many weaknesses, and I still don't know why. But does it even matter anymore? We already talked about it; you apologized, and gave me as many reasons as you were comfortable telling. We're good now.

Well... Kind of. You're good. I'm not precisely broken, but I can't seem to stop liking you, even when I've seen a side of you that just puts me off. Yet I still sometimes dream about you. I wake up with you in my mind, but why? I'm not in love with you, although I do care much for you.

How do I forget you without losing you? You're still a good friend, and I really enjoy your company. I just want to forget I ever felt anything for you. I wish I knew how to. I wish it had meant as little to me as it did to you, but maybe I wish too much. Maybe I should start doing something about it.

Another day. One more class next to you. It somehow hurts to sit and listen to what you did last weekend, and what you'll do on this one, while I've been sitting home alone the whole weekend for the last two months. I lost myself when I lost you. I've been building myself up since then, but there's still a along way to go.

Now I'm even asking myself why I'm even writing this to you. I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me... am I? And even while you read this, would you care about how I feel?

There's times when I want to be with you, and times when I want to be as far away from you as possible. I'm so bitter-sweet about you. *You're tearing me apart! Hope you get that reference. That'd mean you have a good cinematographical taste, which I know you have, but I still wonder if you've watched that movie. Maybe we should watch it together... *maybe.

N**ever would I have imagined you'd like me, even if it was only for a day.

You were so sweet to me. I loved the compliments you gave me, and I absolutely adored the way I made you blush and smile shyly and awkwardly. It somehow made you look even better than you already do.

Everytime we hugged I could feel how you would fit perfectly in my arms. It felt like the last piece of the puzzle was finally in place. The warmth you made me feel was unlike anything I had felt before, and when we kissed... well, I can't even begin to describe how your kisses made me feel. They took me out of this world, even out of my own body. They made me fly to a place where nothing could go wrong... but it eventually did.

It all went away as soon as it had come, but, even if it was short lived, I really developed feelings for you. My friends told me I was crazy, confused, even desperate.

You really just were too good... too good to be true.

E**very time I look at you, I remember the few days when I felt my life couldn't be better.

I had just made a huge change in my life, leaving the comfort of my family to start anew. Left behind the loneliness, the sadness, the monotony to finally do what I wanted to do, and my luck started to change right away.

I never thought it'd change that much, though. I really never expected to have feelings for you, as well as I never expected you to tease me in such a way.

But I don't blame you. If there's ayone to blame, that has to be me, still making the same mistakes I had promised myself I wouldn't make.

I guess things happen for a reason. I still don't know what the reason for this was.

S*aturday night I was still unsure if I wanted to go to that club with you. I didn't want to be witness of my defeat a couple months back. I was afraid to see you with someone else. Afraid I'd be drunk enough to fall apart right there. But, in the end, I decided to go.

You picked me up, and we went to your friend's house. On the way there, I kept wondering if you thought I looked handsome. We got there, and talked for a while with your friend (really nice guy, by the way). Then, we went for beer and hamburgers, and got back so you could get dressed.

Once you were all dressed up, and ready to go, I could hardly believe my eyes. I didn't say anything, but *GOD!,  did you look gorgeous. I was honestly marveled at how stunning you looked.

The rest of the night went better than I had expected. You went your way, and I went mine, trying not to run into you as much. When the night was over, you dropped me off at my place, I got into bed, and blacked out, but that image of you in that dress, the deep, blue blazer, and high heels is forever imprinted in my brain.

S**omething inside of me can't let you go, even though I really want to, and I don't really know why. It maybe because I really love talking to you, and spending time with you. It may also be how I love the way you smile, the goofy gestures you sometimes make, and even the way you move.

You make me feel like I hadn't in a really long time, and I know I've said it many times before, but I just can't forget how the world just seemed right for a moment.

Maybe it's not even you. Maybe it's the baggage I've been carying, and you were just the one that crushed me under the weight of it.

Whatever the reason may be, and even though I want to forget you, I do not want to lose you. I'd love to be comfortable with just being your friend.

A**gain I dreamt about you, and, in my dream, you did it all over again. You tried to get back with me (as if we had ever been a thing), but this time I wasn't so sure about it.

You leaned in for a kiss. Our breaths synchronized, harmoniously fused into one. As your lips gently caressed mine, I found the strength in myself to say no. I wasn't going through it unless I knew you were commited to making it work... You weren't. When I saw you next, you were already with another guy. I woke up, mad at myself for having dreamt about you one more time. I guess it won't stop happening soon.

Anyway, this is it. This is the last letter I'm writing to you. I don't even know why I did this, but I did. I just wish you the best, and tell you not to worry about me. I'll know how to move on