And still...

"If I could stay then the night would give you up

Stay, then the day would keep its trust

Stay, with the demons you drowned

Stay, with the spirit I found

Stay, and the night would be enough"

U2,  Stay (Faraway, So Close)

3,582 miles, 6 hours, 6 years. Numbers as distance, numbers as difference, numbers as maturity. But when it comes to us, meaningless numbers. Because when we talk, we trascend geography, time and age. Faraway, yet so close. So close, and still... so full of meaning, so unreachable. 

I stayed that night two months ago. I stayed because you asked me. I stayed because you saw me, and I saw you. Because we both recognized our spirits and wondered where we had been all this time. It was so late... and so early. A kiss suprised me with the sunrise.  And still... too short, too shy, too restrained.

I left and, even so, I stayed. And you left with me,  hidden between the space between my head and my heart. We kept each other, in a suspended space without time and distance. Where reality couldn't touch us, where we tailored it to our dreams, where insticts ruled and truths flowed. And still... reality watched behind a glass and lies creeped up on us. 

I peeked into you, I enjoyed, I adored. For the first time I met my match, an equal so different but yet so similar. You found me and I found you.   I wanted to go beyond, longing to explore the depths of a soul I sensed as my twin, yearning for hours of conversation to undress our minds, leave them bare, learn, assimilate, merge. Too fill myself with you, and fill you with myself. And still... I got crumbs, smoke... half empty, half full.

I know that if your skin touched mine now, pore to pore, we would combust. The flames will glow high and burn so hot that they would keep us warm forever. And still... presence and now are cold ashes of our imagination. 

I feel you belong with me...and I belong with you. You are the lyrics to my song, the compass in my journey, the path I want to walk. You give a new meaning to first times and significance to the last. And still... You are a verse that cannot be sung, a step that cannot be taken, a lesson that cannot be had... and you don't belong with me.

 I believe in your admiration, respect, loyalty and love because they mirror mine. so deeply ingrained in my heart. I believe in you, you and me, you and everything. And still...  I can only feel the empty pain in myself, the nothing in "just me".

It is too late... and yet so early.  And still... sundown  has yet to arrive. Maybe if I stay, I'll get a kiss at sunrise. Maybe...

Armor

From a tender age I was labeled strong. And as a role in a play, the character seemed to suit me so I followed through building an armor, a perfectly tough exterior that would shield me from the the wounds of life. But somehow, the only thing that my makeshift  thick skin seemed to do was to keep the pain inside. Behind the heavy sheets of metal, hid a scared little girl that just wanted to be accepted and loved.

Invulnerability isn't easily dropped. People think that just because you assume the risk, face the challenge, and take a step forward, you are unfazed by rejection and carelessness. And when the smallest thing ticks you off or your guard drops down, they do not seem to be able to manage the real person that has been inside all the time: an emotional girl that is overcome by fear,

My armor is a heavy burden to carry. Very occasionally, when I am overwhelmed or especially sensitive, I take it off. I rarely do it in public, I retreat and remove it piece by piece during moments when solitude protects me. Those days I wear my heart on my sleeve, tears stream easily, and the world seems to lose a bit of its shine.  Every warrior needs its rest, a moment to be weak, wallow in pain, revel in fear. The battles are too hard and the road sometimes is too steep.

Some people might think that my though exterior is what has kept me safe all these years from the upheaval of a crazy life that I chose. I risked so much to follow my own happiness, I braved the storms of life with unending courage. But from this lonely standpoint that has become my existence, I sometimes wish there was someone, a cherished companion, that could carefully and safely peel the layers of my ironclad shield that has become a prison of my soul. And maybe, when I am tired, when the onslaught of my day to day becomes too harsh, and the wounds burn, he will become my refuge, the welcome respite of a million battles. That day he will unwrap the thin veil that covers spirit, and leave me trembling, longing for a warm embrace that will craddle and protect me. He will wipe my tears, clean my wounds, kiss my scars, and maybe sing me into a peaceful slumber. And in the morning, a new day will be heralded by the gentle sun and I will need no armor. His strong arms will be my peaceful home, the sweet shelter of my ragged heart.

Alone

We are born alone, we die alone. Company is only a mirage, an optical illusion in the desert of loneliness, the promise of a source of water that will quench our thirst for companionship.

Never

How you'd have loved the North Cape and the fjords and the midnight sun...

to sail across the reef at Barbados...

where the blue water turns to green...

to the Falklands where a southerly gale rips the whole sea white!

What we've missed, Lucia! What we've both missed. 

Goodbye, my darling.

- The Ghost and Mrs. Muir

I never cooked you a candlelit dinner, but I planned it. I planned the meal, every detail.  Homemade flan. A refreshing iced green tea. All made to perfection but only in the corners of my mind. 

I never gave you a bithday gift, but I bought one. A thoughful detail that was meant to make you smile but also stir the depths of your sentimental soul. 

I never dug beyond the surface, but I fooled myself, thinking that you shared with me instead of pushing me away. 

I never touched your soul, I never made a mark. I came and went as fast as a summer breeze. 

We never danced, soaking in sweat, promise of pleasure. I danced alone, lost in the music, trying to forget you. 

We never walked, bare feet on the sand, waves kissing our toes. I walked under the rain looking fruitlessly for your smile. 

We never took a picture, our smiles frozen forever in a piece of paper. But I kept your image imprinted in my mind and your body branded in my skin.

We built a handful of great memories but you cut me off, left me dry. And I wonder what it could have been. And I wish you would have given me an opportunity, an option, an open door. But you shut off, and I was left out. And I wonder, I will always wonder, what it could have been...But we never...

Promise

I am still hanging  from the warmth of your arms, the taste of your kiss. Wandering the streets, drenched in the rain, looking for your warm smile, following the scent of your skin. But I am only soaked in terrible disappointment, sodden with dispair. And I blame myself, for my wrong ways, for my urgency, for letting my mind and my heart drown in the tides of desire. I wished you for my summer when you were only meant to foreshadow my spring. I expected a promise that your lips could not fulfill. 

Words

The message. I cannot get it out of my head.  Beautifully written lies that will always reside in the inbox of my soul. Words are truly weapons of mass destruction. What a terrible liar you are. And you know it. And you don’t care.

I’m so hurt, I feel so betrayed. You might have tried to soften the blow but your darkness oozes among the niceties. Such a fallen angel you were! Still, you managed to blame me for mistakes that I incurred on, misguided by what you implied with your attitude and your words. You are not the only one that has an intuition. But my feelings blinded me and, even if I could see it coming from miles away, I still overlooked the red flags. They were everywhere.

I managed to write for myself a whole profile of who you were, of who I thought you were. I hate myself for it. I allowed my imagination run wild. Writing is a blessing, a catharsis. But trying to apply imagination to reality is the curse; it only leads to misguided decisions. Overlooking the reality only postpones the pain.

In your twisted note, you played the blame game, made me feel bad about not doing things that I did not know I was supposed to do. But most of all, I felt bad about falling too hard too fast. I am sorry that my feelings made you feel uncomfortable but I am who I am, I have a heart.  And I am human, I make mistakes. And no, this is not an apology. Because I am starting to believe you were planning to disappear all along. So funny I came across you again mere hours after the message. For the record, it was an accident; I did not do it on purpose. But of course you freaked out. Such a coward! You only replied to my plea because I appealed to your last remnant of conscience. Or maybe it was just pride.  Catching you red-handed reaffirms my belief that you do not have any integrity to start with.  And that the disappearing act was brewing for weeks. That break-up song was really an omen.

You left the best for last, the icing on the cake. I can only translate “different places” as “you were a great booty call”.  And that is rough because you are treating me as if I am stupid, as if I cannot read between the lines. You probably tried to soften the blow but the last few lines were even worse. You do not want to hurt me, but you in fact are doing what hurts the most. Suffering is not something you can avoid. You might not witness it, but it does exist. Yes, I am suffering. Probably more than if you gave me a chance, if you sat down with me and clarified, even labeled and tried to work with me towards a more satisfying solution. After all, you liked me... or so you said.

As I told you, I really want to thank you but this time not for your honesty, as there was none. I want to thank you for the short and amazing time we spent together, for making me discover great things, for opening new doors. And thank you for hurting me so bad.  You were lovely, but only in my mind.

Clean slate

I wish you were a stain to wash you off my pores, remove all your scent from me. I’ll pour ice cold water on my lips to cool off the warmth of your kisses. I will peel off the scabs of your scratches on my back and rub off the red mark of your last bite on my shoulder. I will scrub myself until my body is red and tender, hoping that your last caress, the one that was still hanging from skin, goes away down the drain with my feelings.

I wish you were an infection, bacteria entering my system. I would go a course of antibiotics and you would die off, almost instantaneously. But you are a virus, sneaky and cunning. You entered my being and now all my cells are compromised. You intoxicated my heart and my immune system is dumbfounded by the sheer force of your poison.  

I wish you were a tape to rewind all our story and start again. I would have done things differently, been more cautious, kept to myself. I would have saved a joke over your last words, the punch on my face, the door slamming shut. My heart literally sank when I read them, the pain was almost physical and completely unavoidable. My reason would have fought the unilateral decision but my heart was too ragged to follow my thoughts.  

I wish I could cut off the part of my brain that still holds your memories. I now hate my impeccable sensory memory and the images of you invade every resting moment. Your fiendish smile is ingrained in my mind, replaying over and over, burning so hot, hurting so deep, awakening all the emotions, the intensity, the almost spiritual connection that I felt.  And there is the key, I FELT.

There is no soap, lotion, gel, medicine, recorder that can wipe you off. Only time will cure my wounds leaving a nice little scar, another notch on the bedpost of my soul. All these memories will shrink, become less permanent, pop into my mind less often.  A year from now you will be a little speck on my universe. But deep in my heart I will still regret that, at some point, there was still the remote possibility of making YOU my universe. 

Battle

Can’t do it. Just can’t. I don’t want to become somebody’s toy anymore. I cannot give my body and keep my soul to myself. I am done with that emptiness. I want to be full.

So what do I do now? I just screwed up this whole thing from the start. I should have been a good girl. I should have kept to myself. I should have not given to the infatuation. Now that I am smitten, there’s no point on crying over spilled milk . Man up, baby, there’s “one action-packed battle scene” looming the horizon. Hooray for me!

Maybe I always get caught in the game because I never really knew how to play. I do not know how to train my soldiers, how to build up walls, how to mix the potion that fights this sickness. Even if I never was innocent enough to wear my heart on my sleeve, even if I never allowed myself to be vulnerable, once the switch is on the whole machine starts purring, building up to my undoing. “Casual sex” does not exist in my dictionary; somehow my heart always gets tangled in the proceedings. Too bad, I never detached it from my skin.

I do not understand chemistry without emotion. For me both are tied, hand in hand, ridiculously stuck together like siamese twins. And now it is even worse because it is so incredibly fucking excellent. The intensity that a feel every time I dive into his ocean of tempestuous waters awakens my senses and numbs my reason. It is just too much. I do not know how to deal with it. I do not know how to play this energy and stop it from entering my heart. I can’t have fun with it, I can’t forget that I have a soul.

It is so touching and disturbing but so incredibly pleasant to give in to his desire. To MY DESIRE. But it is not just that, it is much more. It is unattainable and unexplainable. I just can avoid to get invested when I get lost in his eyes, in the endorphin storm, in the sensory overload, every pore tingling, every brain cell hanging from his breath, his touch, his biting sensuality. There is no way back but a broken heart.

Or I could get ready for battle. Build my armor. Get in my shell. As if I know how to do that. Fake it till you make it. Maybe then my ragged heart will stop beating…or not.

Sensory Overload

Bitter, Bite, Bite her.

Atrapado en el verde,

notas rojas

deshacen el hielo

Hielo azul.

La larga pausa

y la paciencia perdida.

Dientes mellados,

mordiendo,

saboreando el calor

de una delicia

en carne  viva.

Tormentas de piel

y miembros,

llevados por la corriente.

Agua y agua,

manos rojas

que tantean los límites del deseo

rasgando la piel,

cuerdas, bendita música,

arracando alas

en olas de lujuría.

Vuela cual mariposa

en las mélodicas cadencias,

los tonos bajos, ávidos,

relucen

cargando las sonrisas

y los sueños.

Strong hands

Strong hands, grab me, hold me until I melt in you. Buried in your warmth, until I forget myself and the daily struggles, grazing in the pleasures and joys of your body, basking in your scent, drowning deeper and deeper in the beauty of your flesh, making a room of my own into your skin. Our souls will sing in unison to the rhythm of our hearts, sweat and tears hold the magic essence of our union, mixing a potion of genuine bliss. Posses every pore of my human imperfection, express all your animal instincts in the jungle of my bedroom and take me in a neverending wave of ecstasy, ebb and flow of my purest self. Yet I dream of you, every night, taking me to this unexplored territory, where I am part of you and you are mine. Wake me from this reverie of desire and longing, lead me, touch me with your strong, strong hands.

Going on 40...

Ramblings and obsessions of a thirty many year old... Man, time is picking up pace and running for the hills. And now I can almost look at the big 4-0 looking at me in the eye. Where has my life gone? Where are all the dreams I had when I was a teenager? Am I still allowed to dream? Can I still start from zero and hope for the best?

I never really thought my life will look like this at 40. I wish there was more happiness. I also hoped more excitement. Life has become like groundhog day, every day waking up to a day that's like a photocopy of yesterday. And only I can change it. Because I could sit here and wait but waiting is not going to do it.My ass is only going to grow bigger.



It is amazing that from this perch of experience I am starting to realize what I really want from life. And that at this point, even after the disappointments and all the shinny dreams that went down the drain, I still hope everything will turn 180 degrees and I will find myself in that spot, that brilliant spot I always hoped for. Maybe I took the wrong road but I am still able to do a course correction and get back on track. If I can get my fear in check, I can take a big stride and prove that the sky is not even a limit. I can fly!

I might be thirty many, but I still dream like a teenager. And I am allowing myself to feel stuff for the very first time. I am experiencing a renewal of my emotions. I am going to stop looking in all the wrong places, I am going to take life by the horns, change what I do not like, and hope for the best. I will take charge but go with the flow. I will only control what is controllable and put all of me into chasing my future. And with uncontrollable stuff, I just let the current of this massive river take care of me. Drowning is out of question. And fear can kiss my royal Spanish ass.

Let the fireworks begin!

Costant Craving

It has been a long time. Sex I had a few. Obsession too. Longing... I could write pages about longing. But its been a long time without writing and a long time without love.

I am craving the wonderful feeling that you get when you put a few words together. Even if nobody reads it. Even if it is only for myself. I wish I was disciplined enough to write a book, a bible of a tv show, even a movie. I envy people that can sit for hours and write to their hearts content because that is part of my nature, of who I am, a born communicator. I know I could probably some things better than they do, express feelings with more deepness, tell stories that have never been told and that are screaming in my imagination to fill a page. But I do not have the time, or maybe that is just an excuse. Maybe what I lack is energy, maybe it is just that discipline is not part of my personality. Inspiration is there, I have a thousand ideas in a day, I know that if I ever did it I would probably hit it big. But I do not know where to start, I do not know if I am mature enough, I do not know if someone will ever be interested in reading what I have to say apart from some friends or some acquaitances that would like to pry in my privacy, in my thoughts or in my feelings... as if I care. If people were not so afraid of being themselves, of showing who they are, naked to the world, maybe life will be better. But shame, pain, guilt... they are big monsters that eat them inside. I am not perfect, I know, but I am open, like the open book one day I'll write. The date is looming... and my life will change. Fucking daydreamer I am, I imagine my success is hiding in a bunch of lines.

But the biggest craving, aside from writing is LOVE. In capital letters. Sex will do as a substitute but what I really want is just plain LOVE. I want to recognize myself in the eyes of another human being and I want them to mirror themselves in mine. I want a love that hits me to the core and turns my world upside down. I want so badly to love and be loved. But maybe I do not want to settle for second best, I want true, beautiful, fucking romance novel love. I want to be naive, to leave all my reservations aside and still believe that is somebody out there that is dying to bump into me. I want a romantic movie, I want a love a affair that will be written in history books. I am Eloise trying to find her Abelard. That was love, not the juvenile hormones that hit Romeo and Juliet. And Romeo and Juliet were doomed and fictional characters after all...

Where are you? where will you find me or have a found you yet and do not know? My list of requests is long but is there really a twin soul out there as desperate as mine to find his equal? I promise you, wherever you are, that I will be myself and you'll see the light in my eyes ... and you'll be yourself, I will never try to change you or cut your wings. I will be strong but tender, honest, creative... I will push you forward, you will push me forward; looking ahead we will see the same road and we walk down that path together, hand in hand, heart in heart. Just find me... just hug me... just tell me you'll be there for me as I will be there for you. That you'll be my best friend and my lover. That you'll give me goosebumps and make me smile. I will sign for the same conditions, I am dying to give it to you. Just show up, tell me your name, tell me who you are...

I am here waiting... I am ready to whisper sweet nothings in your ear...And I am yours...

Mother

That's my daughter in the water,

who'd have ever thought her?

Who'd have ever thought?

.- Daughter by Loudon Wainwright III

“Adios”, “Bye-bye”. Her arms wide open, as wide as her smile, coming to give me one of her big hugs. Little kisses on the cheek. The scent of her hair and the tenderness of her neck. The lingering feeling that I should not leave.

“No quiero”, “¡Qué ajco!”. Wrestling to get the drops in the eyes, the medicine for the “sicky picky”. “Cupe”, red liquid sputtering all over her chest. If you have your medicine without protest I will give you a “melo-melo”. Maybe I will give it to you anyway. The fever going up so fast. The convulsion. Always scared she might get one again. Stealing the thermometer to put it on her doll. The doll does not cry, see?

“Esta rico”. Stuffing her face with a whole slice of pizza, until she can close her mouth to chew. Carefully and slowly licking a melting ice-cream, her hands and face sticky. Eating spoonfuls of yogurt that spill on her chest. “Oh-oh! Susio” Mama, give me “tate”. “Pana” means “apple”. Apple juice always in the Mickey Mouse cup.

The pit-patter of her feet in the hallway. Her little voice turning deep to call “abuela” and burst into laughter. Her uncontrollable giggling in a tickle war. Making chocolate cakes with sand. You have to taste it. Delicious! Mami, I want to fly. Flying on top of mommy’s legs. Playing 5 seconds of a song in the CD player, dancing for 2 seconds, change the CD. Only song that gets played to the end is “Jingle Bells” in Spanish, it is “avidad” all over again even if we are in the middle of March. Or maybe Mama will sing “Soy minero” following me all around the house will I laugh like a maniac. “Upa, mami, ero”, “Again”. And there she goes, all over again.

“Do you want to get a bath?” “No!” She does not want to get in, all the “quecos” need to swim between the suds though. She does not like the water on her face. Spit it on the border of the tub. Let’s get out now, “no!” “Bye-bye agua!” “Lala-lalala!” Making faces in front of the mirror, singing her little after bath composition. Mommy puts lotion and sings the “Itsy Bitsy Pider” again and again. Brush her hair, little strands curling on the back. Longing to bury my face on that pretty, sweet smelling hair.

Her sweet head laying on my chest while I read the same story over and over again. “Buenas noches” “Te quiero” A kiss goodnight. Maybe she will sit up and take a drink of water, maybe she will touch my face with her little hands in the half-light, smiling broadly. She will sneak a kiss on my cheek, on my hand. Close her eyes tight. Put her little hand in mine and feel it relax its grip.

I love you baby. You fill my days and my nights. I’ll try to live up to your expectations and be the best mom. Even if sometimes it’s hard. Good night. Sweet dreams. Good night.

20 years

So many adventures given up today,


So many songs we forgot to play.


So many dreams swinging out of the blue


.- Forever Young, Alphaville

20 Years. 20 Years since the last day I stepped out of my old school, heading towards an unknown future, first to prepare my entrance to college, then to college itself. I was only 16, with so many dreams and so many ideas of how my life will look like 20 years from that date. And now that the time has come, I look back and I realize that a very little amount of those dreams came true.

Then I was dating my first love, the person that will give me my first heartache and that would come back into my life years later only to break my heart again. I also had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do with my life, the professional path I wanted to follow, where I wanted to go. I also was naïve enough to think that life will roll the red carpet before me and that there would be an easy path to happiness and fulfilment.

I was young and stupid; I did all the stupid things a young girl is supposed to do. My twenties were so much fun, filled of moments of total insanity while assuming my responsibilities and moving forward as I was supposed to. One thing that I never wanted to be was normal and, although my self-image was seriously damaged by my past, I managed to do and experience things that made me different from a lot of people from my generation.

During these years I also had a constant: my horrible eye for men. I guess that a strong, independent, opinionated woman will always find trouble finding a match. I dated, I had formal boyfriends, I had flings… but I guess I never really fell in love completely, except maybe for my first serious boyfriend. In occasions, I was infatuated, but those infatuations never worked out into a full blown affair. And, more than once, I was brought into relationships by the enthusiasm of the other person involved, more than my own. It is hard to confess that was probably also the story of my marriage. I was not completely convinced, I was swept into it by the interest of my now ex-husband more than my own feelings for him. All the years I spent in the relationship, married or not, where filled with doubt and afterthoughts. But I was willing to bet everything on it, carried away by the thoughts that some people had about the relationship, and a bit of my own stubbornness. And then I became a mom… and everything changed. There I discovered that everybody, even me, has a limit. And that some people do not even deserve to be called so, that there are some “animals” walking with on two legs but with no heart or brains. Some people might think that years will give you enough information about somebody to give you an idea of what you can expect but, in a matter of days, the monster will come out and wipe out any preconceived thoughts you might have about them. But even you might be so caught up in the situation, so ingrained in the status quo that you do not even realize that, even through all the time you spent with somebody, there were things that were not acceptable.

I made some decisions there. I had to. Broken and all, with more responsibilities that I could take at my weakened state I decided to reset my life all over again. Start fresh, from zero. Now I go back to those days and it seemed the easiest way to go. And my soul needed it. But now I recovered, I feel strong again and I reconsider every single step I took then. Life is not easier now, it has never been easy, but I wish I could have acted differently. What looked like an unsurmountable obstacle maybe it wasn’t that difficult after all. But given the circumstances, I did what I thought was the right thing to do and, even if I do, I should not regret it. Everybody has the right to change their minds after all.

That was almost two years ago and now I am in a complete different position. I proved I could take care of myself and my daughter. I was reborn from my ashes, built my strength, rediscovered myself; found that, even if I was not the same person I was before this experience, there was still certain “joie de vivre” deep inside me. But that spark is gently, slowly fading as I find myself trapped in the routine of my every day life. I am a mouse stuck in the wheel, my steps forward keeping me in place, turning round and round in the same spot, going nowhere. Until now I was getting ready for a new period of my life but, now that my mind is ready to depart, the flight is delayed until further notice.

Maybe it is because I do not really belong here anymore. This place is the ideal location for me to recharge but, once my batteries are brimming, there are no dreams for me to follow, my whole energy fades with no goals to accomplish, no future to aspire to. After reviewing my life until now I find myself at a crossroad, a place where I have to decide where I want to go but without the inspiration to guide me on the new road I know I have to take. A road that, hopefully, will lead me to a completely different point to where these 20 years have taken me, a place maybe filled with happiness.

To and Fro

I'll be stood there waiting for you, boy, you've got me

.- Oh Boy, Duffy

This is a letter I will never send, it is a confession my lips will never pronounce. I’ve been thinking and, mind me, I am dangerous when I think. But there are certainties that I cannot overlook anymore and I need to unload, even to a blank page, the turmoil of needy emotion that is driving me crazy.

I fell in love with you in front of a plate of calamari and a glass of wine. Until then it was just a weird energy, the flirty remarks, the fun nudging. But that day you opened to me, I learnt about your dreams and I saw your heart. I was so scared, so ingrained in the status quo, that I disregarded it. I should have listened to my heart, screaming, begging for a kiss that you would not give me, a kiss that would have opened the floodgates to complete adoration.

After promising that it would never happen, when I was just starting to convince myself that my obsession with you was a teenager’s infatuation, you kissed me. And you threw my world for a spin. I will never understand what went through your mind that night. I know pretty well what I went through mine. I cannot confess how many times I wished to have my husband vanish only to spend some stolen moments with you. I fantasized, oh yes, I did. Fantasies that sometimes kept me from falling into desperation. If I was desirable enough to have you kiss me, maybe I wasn’t so bad after all.

Dark times came and went, there you were again. And now it was real. And now it was possible. You felt like an exciting familiar stranger. I felt self-conscious. I was also so hurt, so changed, so trying to find myself again. I am still trying, it is not easy to recover from such pain. But adorable you, lovable you, you filled my world. It took me a few months to rationalize the two nights that put me up in cloud nine. To stop acting like a lovelorn teenager. But still. Day and night, you follow me everywhere I go.

A year has passed, all the times we have stolen to life are precious and I carry them in my heart, rejoicing on the ease of it all. Just sitting silent side by side feels comfortable. I cherish your company, I long for it. Oh, God, I miss you! I spend more time missing you than with you. And that´s why I am mad, it is unfair. It was the right time for all of this to happen but I am on the wrong place. And not only geographically, but because my life is filled with constant fires that I have to put out. Nobody deserves to carry my burdens with me, much less you.

So the last time I was there, enjoying every minute shared with you, something on the back of my mind went like a pendulum, to and fro, between confessing or giving up. I don’t know where I stand with you, you do not let me see much. I do not know if you are scared of giving yourself in too much into something that is based in 3 visits a year. But I am invested in this, I cannot cheat. I would feel horrible if I did something with someone that was not you. And maybe that’s why I need to stop this, before I hurt myself too much, before I put so much into this game. Sometimes I think I deserve the chance to have a normal life, somebody to date that lives a few blocks from my home, at least in the same country. To watch a movie cuddling on the couch with a bag of microwave popcorn, to call every day, date every other weekend, go out for dinner, spend every free minute together. But I only want to do that with you, I do not want anybody else. I need your presence, your scent, your mindless conversation, your wise advice. I need those brief visits to turn more permanent. It is so hard to wait for a week of bliss when so many weeks are filled with nothingness. Still, I am a player and I want to keep on playing this game of pleasure and suffering. Maybe I do not deserve a regular “boyfriend”, maybe the stars want me to always have this unreachable dream love.

Please believe me when I say that if something ever happened to you, my life will be empty. I hope one day I can have what I deserve. And I hope it is more than 3 visits per year.

My Way

Sex is something that we should do

Sex is something for me and you

.- I want your s*x by George Michael

Kiss me, kiss me long and passionate, play with my hair, sneak your hands under my clothes. Kiss me in your car like you did that time, when I was so taken and so scared, when all the worries of the world disappeared in your lips for an instant. This time I won´t worry, this time I won’t fear the consequences. This time I will let myself go in your arms, give myself to you completely.

It will be slow, almost hesitant. I´ll play with the fringe of your t-shirt, tease you, touch your flat stomach with my warm hands only to take it off slowly, unlocking our kiss for only a second. By then, your skin will be burning with desire. Under my dress, your finger will twist around the lacy strap of my bra, one hand reaching slowly across my back to undo it. I might stop you then, I might slow things a bit but pushing you softly to your sofa, laying on top of you, brushing my cheek against your skin, dizzy with its delicious contact. My skin then will only be a promise; I will give it to you on my own terms, in my own time. But first let me drown in your warmth, in your musky, manly scent. Give me a few seconds to admire you, to lick every pore, softly bite every arch and kiss every inch of your worshipped body. Only then my skin will be yours, warmth against warmth, my soft curves embracing your taut body.

We’ll rub against each other like animals in heat, going to the most primitive essence of our selves, still some clothes on, some barriers to be overcome. But always slowly, savouring every minute, tasting every second, rejoicing in those few moments of stolen company.

My fingers will get tied unbuckling your belt, your hands will reach blindly to jump my last hurdle. And then, I’ll get dressed in your skin and your wrap around me, while you return the little tokens of adoration I gave your earlier, getting lost in the mountains and valleys, reaching every creak and fold, kissing, nibbling, conquering my body with an unquenchable yearning. Caresses and kisses will drift and fly, landing in unexpected places. I will taste myself in your mouth, the saltiness of an unbearable longing.

Only then, after a long exploration our limitless landscapes, we’ll melt into each other, shapeshifting into a strange animal, two minds turned one, locked into an intimate space. We’ll ride the waves of pleasure, surfing together in the twilight until a last bright ray of sunlight brings us to the boundary of heaven. We will vanish in its powerful force, holding for dear life, letting go, bursting into joyful bliss.

And right after, with infinite tenderness, you will kiss off a loose strand of hair from my forehead. That’s how things are when they are my way…

Compliments

Don't care about all the pain in front of me, I just wanna be happy. - Happy, Leona Lewis 

I have been carrying a burden, a burden of words. Words can weight somebody down and hurt more than a punch on the face. Words can kill. And I have heard some words during the last two years that reverberate in my head once in a while. Most of the hurtful words I heard – and, mind me, I heard quite a good share of them – have been erased from my mind because the turmoil of emotions that I felt at that time drowned them in my memory. Good and bad sank in the storm of my divorce. I feel pain when I cannot remember the first months of my child’s life but I am grateful that some of the horrible stuff went away too, erased and drained through that loophole that protects ourselves from further damage. Once in a while I recall some lines, here and there, but most of it is a blur that I cannot even believe I went through. Sometimes I feel so detached that it is as if some actress played my role in the movie of my life. I do not even feel that woman was I at some point.

But going back to painful words, there are two sentences that I just cannot erase and that have been torturing me for the last few days. Maybe writing, dissecting and sharing them will conjure them out of my system. I just can hope. They were: You were the worst wife ever, which I heard around a month ago from my ex-husband and You are a wonderful person but you have wasted yourself away all these years making bad choices which was delivered to me in the wee hours before Saturday´s dawn by an old acquaintance. I know how wrong these two sentences are but, only because of that, they are not less hurtful. I do not feel I have to justify myself to these people for my past actions but I feel they are so blind to their own actions and interests that they are unable to see, much less feel, how their words can produce so much pain. In the first case though, I will even consider they totally are aimed to be painful. In the second case, it has not been the first time somebody tells me something like that, usually paired with an “I told you so.” It also interesting that this kind of comment usually comes from older male friends/acquaintances that, at some point, wanted to get into my pants. That gives them what they think is a right of opinion over my actions, cannot even imagine what they would say if they actually got to sleep with me at some point. I guess desire gives some people wings in the worst way imaginable. But regardless of the people that pronounced them, I try to look at them from their perspective. And then I see how tainted those statements are and I cannot even believe why I feel such pain. Reality is in the eye of the beholder and if the people that said things like the ones above really believe them to their ultimate implications, those people do not deserve a space in my life, not even an thought, much less my pain.

These two years have been a learning experience, a trip I never wanted to take. I did start it without knowing where I was going, not even happy with the decisions I had to make, the measures I had to take. I am still not happy, I wish I was able to do things differently. But nevertheless, these two years are a reflection of life in general, of how sometimes you are taken to places where you do not want to be and how facing and embracing them is the only way to get through with that hard job that is living. I have also learnt for all the lovely people in your life, there’s always going to be a couple of assholes. And that the only person that you always have left is yourself, that sometimes you are the only one that can make the compliment, look in the mirror and praise that being that looks at you with your same eyes. You have to love yourself more than anything, not in a selfish way, just giving yourself a break and a tap in the shoulder once in a while. I always believed I was not good enough; I spent my life looking for somebody to tell me that I was beautiful, drinking thirstily from other people’s compliments and never feeling half full. Only when I started believing I was beautiful myself, my glass spilled over. And, even if my beliefs are still fragile and the assholes still come barrelling through, I will stick to myself and don’t deprive my pretty self of all the love that I deserve.

Four Letters

Two in love can make it, take my heart but please don't break it. - L-O-V-E, Nat King Cole

On the tip of my tongue, about to slip, murmured, whispered in the throes of passion. How many times those four letters have soaked my brain while lost in a kiss, enveloped in your embrace, gone in the warmth of your skin? But it is too soon to throw that card into the game as the consequences of those harmless letters scare me as much as they would probably shock you. I take refugee in “like” while the big “L” looms in the horizon, taking the safer route in this “up in the air” relationship that progresses safely but slowly.

I believe that, even if you said you never would, you feel something as pure and wild as what makes my heart beat when I see you. Even if this stolen minutes taste like too little, even if they are only a peek in what it could be, even if I am still too scared to let myself all out on you. I cannot explain why I know but I see something in you that it is mine, that you already gave to me without me asking. And little by little you start admitting to yourself that this is more than a momentary fling. I watch you figure it out, give in gradually, always showing a bit more, conceding, dropping hints to feed my fire. But I have to wait, I have to sit pretty and let you figure it out.

I made some mistakes along the way, I know. Just being too careful, I have not let you see the turmoil inside of me, I have kept some questions unasked. I got so used to live in fear that I am scared of your reactions if we discuss a “touchy” subject. I know I should let go of old scars but it will take some time until I let myself lay all out in front of you, completely naked, letting you discover my every corner, my every fear, happiness and misery. And maybe then I will open the doors for those four letters, let them flood you with their sound. Until then, enclosed under chains and locks in a corner of my brain, they scream in my pores when you touch me, heat up my lips when I kiss you, and consume my body in your arms hoping that, just by sensing their warmth, you would whisper them in my ear someday.

Album

 “When I look back on my ordinary, ordinary life, I see so much magic, though I missed it at the time.”- Photograph,  Jamie Cullum. 

So I am one year older, one year wiser. I haven’t felt this free and happy in years. I feel reborn and at peace with myself. Maybe a little worn and tattered around the edges, but ready to open a white, clean, new page to scribble on. Life is a roller coaster, a merry-go-round and a parade. Why just choose only one when you can enjoy all three?

I am proud to say that, since I can remember, I have lived to the fullest. Loved, hated, screamed, cried, laughed, smiled…felt with all my heart and soul. Passionate as I am sometimes things looked a tad subdued but deep inside I knew that a fiery fire kept burning, my unquenchable thirst kept me going. A good friend called it “lust for life”, the spark that I thought I lost but still was there, tucked under a warm blanket, waiting to be awakened by the new day. A new day, a new road, a new life…

How many promise does this new life hold? I am sure that if what is on store is half as exciting as what has been past I am in for a good ride. And I know my travel companions are the best. Along these years I have probably gathered the most interesting, diverse, witty, beautiful, loving, sweet, intelligent, amazing, wonderful group of friends. And do not expect normal. After all, who’s normal? They are extravagant, spectacular, extraordinary. Spread all around the globe, always there (or almost), can turn into anything you need in a given moment. Deep conversationalists, great cooks, mum confidantes, elegant clubbers, gossip queens, smart conspirers … take your pick because you’ll find at least one of each. If I need a bear hug, a silly laugh, a good cry, some screaming or a plain old good apple pie… I know where to find them. And they know they have me, whenever they need me (or I hope they do!)

Looking back has been painful, but not anymore. There is so much good in my life that comes from my past. So much promise, so much magic. Sometimes I might not be able to see it but today I embrace it. Today my album is full of good memories.