I like to run, write, learn, game, make friends, my job, to breathe, I like-
There's so many things I like, there is no end
"The world's my oyster" a blue friend once said

Then why don't I?
Why am I blank at the screen?
Why escape this world?
If everything's green?

It is way too warm, the air conditioner broke down
I am just tired, I didn't sleep too much now
I can't focus in red, couldn't sleep that much
Must be depressed, I don't ever sleep so much

My eyes are a pit, what's left to fill?
Wake to the light.

rays deviation
gathered in the sorrow of flowers, smiles
falls asleep on the blood moon, honey
glued on the lines of the palms,
hearts
that flow like sand from the fists, masters
on the other side of the dawn,

rising dunes in the sky

La interminable vision de un buen futuro me alimenta mi sol. Mis manos ramas crecen para alcanzar más bellas palabras que aún no eh leído.

Walking in the dark like he often did so gracefully attaching himself to the books of his library like the grass to the damp earth. His mistakes of the day agitated him slightly he had himself a meal and the reddest wine he could smell, his hands were mist from the hotness of the room, he waited for his cat to appear out of thin air, an apparition of the mind. Grabbing his almost finished bottle, he stepped into the middle of the kitchen looking at the window he felt something move then twitched his eyes to the floor owl manuvering them he saw albert his Abby cat, he seemed tired awakened dizzinly from a long eternal nap, staring at him asking for food without words. He felt his heart broken everytime albert gave him that stare. How can a cat be so mystical he asked but did not get a response from the shadows of the room or the cat either. He was a writer and needed his space to stretch the mind and inhale air exhaling the words into the page, that made him breath better, words of silence teaching the readers of new ages. His wife had died years ago in the war of love against a nasty disease. He loved her but in his separated way, touching her but not really there. The day was Tuesday and the meeting of his writer friends was tomorrow he had to get something down by the morning. To his adored cat a sphinx on the deserted table and his manuscript layed, both object half touched by the shadows and the afternoon light. Where did she to I wonder speaking in his lowered voice, she must have agh forget it Walt you think to much, so he made the efort and moved closer to the machine that allowed him to write his words in silence just the pressing of the keys spokes and he liked it felt like home.

Soles of white dusty red shoes,
Old laces, and pieces of plastic on the tips,
Newspapers to add space in a mediocre label,
Fake Vans, that ironically says, ‘Original’
In place of that brand’s tag.

Red, and reliable like the last piece of value,
In a house of not many valuable things.
Except the memories of the places I’ve walked,
Bruising my ******* jamming my back heel,
Into a rather than tight new pair.

“These are supposed to be size nines”

As like the age my foot grew longer than I did,
Taking every corner before I did. Indicating loudly,
Which next turn I’m going to take.

Truly shy of my foot without the covering protection,
Of a common shoe. Don’t judge how far I’ve been,
By the measure of the state of my shoes.

I haven’t been that far...

Though I would like to have,
To foreign places like the land I bought my shoes.

Today I had to throw them away,
Which felt like I threw away...

A piece of a memory,
A piece of my wealth,
A piece of myself,
A piece of favourite clothing,

Worn so proudly on my feet.
Farewell to my reliable old red shoes...Sigh!

Here I sit at my office desk. I have a million things to do but I must prioritize the most important task of all, my life realizations.

I have contemplated on the recent loss of my three-year long relationship. That chapter of my life that I thought would go on forever lasted only 1,095 pages long.  However, this is not about my current failed relationship. This is about all the boys I’ve loved before, combined (wink).

When I first experienced love, I dove in headfirst. I had no safety gears, nor did I feel the need for any. Eight months later, I had my first heartbreak. My first real heartbreak. It was the most bitter taste that I’ve ever tasted, the darkest shade of blue my eyes have ever laid on and the saddest music my ears have ever heard. I was never the same after. Life never tasted the same after him.

(Red Flag: Manifested right from the start. High School Sweetheart “ex- girlfriend” who was not yet over him and apparently, he was not over with too. )

The next time I fell in love, I came prepared.  I had all the necessary gears and read all the manuals. Take your sweet time they say, build a foundation first, become friends before you jump into anything. I did all that. I took all the necessary steps for success and yup, you’ve guessed it, it failed. My second real heartbreak tasted even worse than my first. Everything I felt before were intensified.  I did not just lose a lover; I lost a friend. I felt my heart ache and it cracked a little bit more than it did the last time. The pain was greater than anything I’ve experienced before, so I had to move quick.

(Red Flag: Manifested in the middle of the relationship. Made a very big lie. )

The relationship that followed was a love from behind closed doors.  It was not as intense as the ones that came before it. I did not lose my grip on reality; I did not lose myself. In fact, I was so in my head that I had taken it for granted. This relationship was where “I ****** up”. My heart did not break because I broke his. I had no excuse for breaking his heart when all he did was love me.

(Red Flag: Wrong love, wrong time. )

And then came my  almost “End Game”.

I was single for a long time before I met him. I went into a lot of self-discoveries and made friends. I immersed myself in my career and became someone that I am a little bit proud of. I was ready when I met him. I was ripe, I needed to be picked. But our relationship did not start with any signs of sincerity. It was rushed, it was forced, it had no romance. I was warned about him before I even started catching feelings for him. But I was so ready. I let myself fall so deep. I ignored all the signs that pointed to the exit and kept running in his maze of love, lies, abuse & manipulation. I poured everything in my cup until it’s empty. Until I had nothing left. I used to visualize my future with him until I couldn’t see anything else but signs that point to the nearest exit. I thought this would break me, but it didn’t. I grieved the relationship while I was in it that I had nothing left to grieve about when I finally decided to leave.

(Red Flag: ****** human being since birth.)

So now we get to the bottom-line of all this abstract mess. The art of contemplation sure is a tricky one.

It does not matter how we decide to fall in love because when we love, we hurt. Love always comes with hurt as the day comes with night. So maybe there is no use in overthinking it because if someone’s intention is only to hurt you, remember that the devil comes in sheep clothing. Only time can reveal a person’s true intentions, so you just sit back, enjoy the ride, but listen. Look for the signs. The moment you recognize a red flag, respect and love yourself enough to choose yourself and walk away.

I know now that loving someone does not make them love you back enough to change their ways to make you happy. It is always
THEIR.
CHOICE.