I sit. The grass is damp with the light rain that falls upon my head.

“It’s been a while”, I say, breaking the silence. Not that there’s anybody here to respond. Not anymore. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. Trying to calm down the nerves that are still here after all this time, the beating of my heart.

All this time. All those wasted years of space for nothing. It’s unbreakable, the heavy blanket in the air, the one holding all the words in the past that I cannot bear to bring up. The one that is better left alone, forgotten.

There is so much I want to say.
So much that I won’t say.

The rain begins to pour heavier. The drops are now pounding against me, my clothes soaking wet. The wind picks up sticks and pebbles, and I watch as they scatter across the ground,

I do not move.
Instead, I stay still. Letting the sky cascade against me, as it forms puddles in the soil. The pitter pat sound is strangely comforting. I take everything in and nothing in at the same time, only focusing on the noise, ignoring the cold, the want to go run back inside.

I’m tired of running.

I want to believe that you’re up there watching, proud. That you can find it within your heart to forgive me for being a coward, for being unable to take the step forward. That even after all these years of silence between us, we are still there, existing between the universe.

I hope that one day, in the future, I will return, changed for better.
That I will finally tell you all the things I should have said long ago.

I open my most special notebook among the hundreds
Plagued with memories that degrade over time
With knowledge that only paper may preserve my thoughts

I have my list of Wisdoms in my mind
Knowing the first must be the most impactful to all our lives
And thus I write, forever to be known as Wisdom number One
The cause of all my pain

In our lives we encounter gems
Our most precious of valuables
Our most cherished of moments
Which make life truly worth it
Which pull us through another painful day
Just for the chance to experience it once more

But

Our gems, revisited, never shine quite as bright
We search endlessly to reclaim our joy from these moments
But all that is left, is sadness, for moments lost

But all that is right, is wisdom, for we know that those moments are lost

We know the past brightness of our most cherished gems
But even in memory, every passing day
Makes our gems look a little duller
Losing our happiest times in favor of a painful world
All the while, we would rather trade reality for fantasy at any price

All the never, would we trade our faded gems for happiness

And thus we willingly keep our pain
These faded gems being the only remaining mementos of our joy
Preferring the sadness
Knowing somehow, losing our faded gems would make us worse off
Even if joy results

All gems fade.
You can only see each gem for the first time once.
Each passing moment takes a little more from you, never to be experienced or remembered again.

However
There are some who trade their gems for happiness
Some who reject their happiest memories
Some who stop trying to reclaim those moments
Some who are truly broken

For we know that somehow, our pain has more value.

Ele é confusão
Inesperado como a chuva no Verão
Turbulento e confuso

Ouve-me de noite
Adormece de dia
Discorda dos meus princípios
É terramoto na minha personalidade

Ele é diferente
Por ser igual a tudo aquilo que procuro
Agita-me até água transbordar
Toca-me violentamente
E ainda me sinto virgem

Diálogos viram ausência
Abraços viram respirações suspensas
Memórias viram mensagens espaçadas

Ele é banho de água fria
Café queimado
Areia branca que queima
É desnecessário
Mas inevitável

Come sit here with me my friend.
Come and rest your weary feet
A comfy seat and window pane
As we watch the passing trains
And people on the street.

Come sit here with me my friend
Come and share with me your day
This sunny view and empty chair
Are not the same
Without you sitting there.

Christmas is here.
Your absence is my present.
How lucky I am
To have the gift
Of missing someone like you.

I don’t know what love is but I’ve tasted it before. I’ve danced this dance with you a thousand times. The dreaming took place, no matter the hour as I imagined your head next to mine. I’ve tried to forget you and your boundless warmth and I’ve tried to resist the desire to reach. But I’m afraid that you’ve slipped from me, my life, and my grip, leaving only saudade behind. You won’t remember me in her arms. “Do you miss me?” I think in the dark. “Do you think of me, even at all?” —

nothing i do will you bring back;

not the shoebox of purple hyacinths
watered by the i love you's
i still wanted to say.

not the prose poetries i wrote you
whilst caught in a mania
in the restrooms of dying gas stations.

not the caving in of the see-through walls
mixed with static humming of the payphone calls.

not the pillow telegrams that smell like
bourbon and my mother's cigarettes;
darling, my bed has become a post office
of the letters i never had the chance to write
and of the things i never
had the chance to say.

and nothing i say will bring you back —
not even this poem, and i know that now;
i just don't know
how to live with that.

still, nothing will ever bring you back
and darling, watching you fall out of love
feels like the only thing i can do right now.