Happiness lasted
While we could feel
Skin and skin.

The dance of the days,
Compressed in our struggles,
Expanded in our thoughts,
Coloring the absences
With the most complex mix of ingredients:
Passion, pain, wanderer thoughts, missing, carrying, crying, jumping, yelling, silencing, grief and joy.

The last of the happy days,
Of those days where
Everything were re-doable,
The limits would keep us safe,
And I was proud.

From this moment
Nothing expects me
Except the certainty
That the happy days
Are rushing towards
The past, losing its smells and taste,
Like a voice, getting weak and distant,
Until nothing of it remains.

I was wrong to believe
That my pain would make me
A better person.