I feel there’s no boundary
between me and the world.

Everything comes in,
everything goes out.

The membranes of my skin
let anyone enter—
and let all my self-love
slip away.

I want to text you
and say there’s still
a possibility of a future for us—

because it would give me comfort
in my little world of illusions,
knowing that even if I live my life alone,
I still have somewhere to return to.

And that place
would be you—
even after all the pain.

But it wouldn’t be fair to you.
Because I’d be keeping you waiting,
when you could be living your life,
with someone better.

I can’t see a life after you—
with another man.

Even though there’s another boy,
he’s immature compared to me.
I think that’s what
the cards were trying to say.

And if I return
to this marriage with you,
the package will be complete again—
the church,
your family—

and most likely,
I won’t want any of it.
I’ll only want
you.

Was this really what I wanted?
Did it have to be this way?

Was there nothing left
for our story to become?

Santiago and Veronica
would probably be upset.

Why did you come back into my life?
Look at the trouble you’re causing—
you’ve shaken all my edges,
as you would say.

I know you want me,
but I’ve been through a marriage.
I know what it means
to give yourself in a way
that maybe, in your idea of love,
doesn’t even exist yet.

Your love still feels liquid.
I need something solid,
real—
not imagined,
not illusory.

In the end,
I need you to change.
Because I have.

My standards are higher now.
Will you be able to reach them?