It burns.
It rips the heart out.
Leaves a void.
Saudade.
The urge to jump on a plane,
to run for miles and miles
to overcome every obstacle
just so I can get to you.
Saudade.
The wind whispers your name
while the rain marks the beat.
The pulse of my vanes
screams :
Saudade.
When do I get to see you?
When do I get to talk to you?
When do I get to kiss your lips
and hold you in my arms?
When do I get to run towards you
to see your face, to….
sigh.
When do I get to?
Saudade.
Bright dots watch, attentive.
Butterflies listen
in a continuous movement
here and there and here again.
The sky sings bright in the night darkness
and the melody
bathes the water
and washes away the pain.
The air smells like happiness
mantling everything on its way
and in a sweet embrace
releases the touch of a chain.
“They kissed good bye.”
Pencil breaks.
“They kissed good bye. Life does that sometimes, you know. You love more than you think capable, but the end is near.”
Sips a chocolate liquor.
“Yes, the end is near. Near sometimes takes forever, sometimes not.”
Reflects on endings… doesn’t accept it has already come. Scratching head. Small sip. Re-reads.
“This time, near has already passed, faster than thought possible. In fact, near has come and gone so fast that it all just feels like a dream: it took forever while happening, but passed in the blink of an eye after gone. That’s how ending love feels. No matter when, it’s always like a lifetime or a second ago. But that’s love, you know?
Your heart gets broken. Yes, every single time. One way or the other, at least.”
Feels like another sip. Needs something else with it.
“It comes and goes as it pleases. Doesn’t respect time, age, color, religion or the like. It devastates. Like a tsunami. Heavy. Destructive. Beautiful. Unique. Every time unique. That’s difficult to understand.”
Turns on the heat. Sharpens pencil. Too much, it broke. Closes the curtains. No light can come in anymore, no judgment. Order of things was actually different.
Pours half of the last can of beer. Familiar smell, now with a whole new purpose. Looks at drinks… sighs. Sipping, we can do it.
“It can be destructive, alright. Something made to be so beautiful, with such dreadful characteristics. Something with such pure intentions and poor judgment. Something so…”
Has no clue of how to finish sentence. Sips are no longer counted.
“Gifts. People. Moments. All that is desired is… it doesn’t matter. Desire does not leave the imagination, anyway.
Desire of the new, exciting, refreshing, revitalizing. Desire leads you nowhere. If somewhere, to the doom.
Desire of happiness: the most dangerous of all! It affects your partner, children, parents, closest friends and most fierce enemies. Desire kills you.
Hope kills you.
But hope is something else entirely.
Talk about drugs!
What’s fashion takes you places. To the bad or to the good. What’s fashion saves you.
If you live your true self, must you succumb to desire, passion, hope… must you succumb to life itself. For life is no more than a dream, and a dream is no more than the possibility of life.”
Reflects upon things written.
“Tears rejoice, for tears rinse. Suffering evaporates, though a salt bond is formed forever. Tears hurt.
The breath is but an attempt to stand over what’s happened. Such doing is believed impossible, as time only progresses. Where do we stand, then?
We stand in he arms of a loved one, in the words of kindness, in the hope of a better future, in the vain words of a failed poet, in the hidden feelings of a successful figure, in the infinite spaces between the universes; we stand tall.
We stand after others have fallen around us, we stand on top of mountains conquered, we stand for what’s right, just; we stand for the possibility of error. We stand against hypocrisy, after all aren’t we all just products of our own nature? We stand for the right of being human, for the humanity of being us. We stand for ourselves, we stand for each other. We stand.
May the most harsh of winters and the most burning of summers, may the spring flourish what should stay and the autumn take what’s done – may them win against what’s human, but may humanity be it’s purest.
Shall we fall before what’s handed, may that be brave. Shall we die upon disease, may that be in our most perfect health. Shall the world beat us, may that be after we have beaten the world.”
Devaneios Psicopatas 