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Liz Delgado May 2014
His mind was a very dark place with very thin, occasional streaks of light,
when he managed to think about a future.
It was knots and swirls;
his mind was twistingly bittersweet,
and his smile was too.
He is not perfect and even as much love as my eyes held whenever I looked at him,
I knew this perfectly;
then again,
I'm not perfect either.
The truest person you could meet,
not an ounce hypocritical.
Knew his tricks,
paths, ways and corners of life,
had this talent to get to the darkest corners of your brain without you being aware of the intrusion.
I knew my mind did not have an easy entry,
but with him...
I felt vulnerable,
there was no lock in this universe that would click closed if he were the one to be opening the gates,
let's not talk about my heart.
He's a person you love endlessly or hate passionately,
Could be your best friend or your worse enemy,
could even make you love and hate him at the same time-
but there is no color grey with him.
He was a control freak that couldn't be controlled.
Responsible for a lot of poetry and well-arranged words,
metaphors and similes,
analogies and paradoxes.
He is not forgotten easily,
I also know this perfectly.
His mind is addicting,
his heart is addicting,
his smile is addicting,
he's addicting.
And I was and still am insomnious.
My happiness should not depend on another being,
especially one so dark and emotionally unreliable at times,
someone so reckless yet thoughtful.
I am incredibly guilty.
But then again,
the heart never listens to the brain.
Liz Delgado May 2014
You said you needed space once again, so I stepped aside and you put me back in your shelf.
I waited weeks and months to be taken out, but, "give me another week," you said.
And so I waited and I waited, and I cried, and I missed you like crazy.
I was left insomnious.
Eventually, I found my way down, went through the door and you never heard of me again.
I had hoped you would come looking for me... but you never did.
  May 2014 Liz Delgado
Mariana Seabra
I would tell her that this is how you die by distance even being so close.
I would tell her "Hey lover, do you remember me? Maybe you don't, but let me introduce myself and we'll see...".
I would tell her that it's the third time I try to quit smoking, but this is another addiction that will remain. We all need something to prevent us from going insane.
I would tell her that "You can leave, you can always leave, come with me and let's catch a train". I would tell her that "You can come back, you can always come back, that's what a house is, a shelter from pain".
I would tell her that the memory of her rough voice undresses my memories.
I would tell her that her laugh sounds like those perfectly designed sweet melodies.
I would tell her that we are always afraid of each other even when we're not. We are more afraid of being together than of being apart.
I would tell her she doesn't have to believe in her every single thought.
I would tell her that I tried to stop writing about her but everything that comes out of me are love poems and death sighs.
I would tell her that I know everytime that she cries, I can feel it in me, when she lays at night choking in all her lies.
I would tell her that being empty comes with a big price.
I would tell her that I'm mad at her for making it so hard to leave.
I would tell her that I know what she hides behind that sleeve, many scars from all the people that still can make her grieve.
I would tell her that I love her through music, through literature, through nature, through everything my eyes touch...because everything reminds me of her, because I will always love her so so much.
I would tell her that I think she's the most majestic creature.
I would tell her that connections like this are rare so there's no need to be afraid. And maybe I'll need her to tell me the same.
I would tell her that after all this time, I wish she stayed. Or do I wish I stayed?
I would tell her that I never want to say goodbye because everytime she smiles I feel like she cracks open the sky.
I would tell her that this is for her and everyone else who reads this is just a stranger looking through a window at us.
I would tell her...
If I ever met her.
To someone I keep having dreams about, but I'm not even sure if she exists.
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