domingo, 22 de março de 2015

Soneto da separação.

                I never thought I would be exposed so much, as I started to fall asleep. There, lying in my ex-lover arms, everything seemed meaningless. I felt the hollow inside my chest; I was building up everything in me, maybe just so I could let it all go on this day.
                Things were different, I could tell. Of course, they should be. Being there, at three in the morning, was just my last pitiful attempt to save what I had in the last two years. There was nothing left to save. Everything was lost and there was nothing I could do. Accepting it was the hard part. How could I even acknowledge the fact that I wasted two years of my whole life, with someone I now barely know? This wasn’t right. I didn’t deserve it. How could she do this to me? After everything we worked so hard to develop, after all the plans and promises… I had to make it right. I had to go and save the world, just like I always do. It would all work out fine, we would put this behind us and go straight, no looking back. And that’s what I did.
                I genuinely thought I would get out of her house with everything going back to normal. I had written a last letter. I wrote all that was left for me to say, including that being my last attempt to salvage our relationship. If things went south, she wouldn’t hear me say one word about it. And so, I gave it to her. She took some time on reading it. I was in the living room of her house, awaiting for her response. I sat on the couch for a while. Then I walked through, even reaching the kitchen. I was never a patient man, so that waiting almost killed me. Literally. Well, maybe not literally. Still, it was tiresome to wait for an answer that could potentially change my life.
                After what I think it was two months, she opened the door of her bedroom and told me to come in. I saw that her face was swollen, probably after crying for some time. Which also explained the irritated eyes. The inside of the room was unfamiliar to me, even though I had seen it hundreds of times. Some things were missing, like our old photo, which used to stay on the desk. “I put it in my wardrobe. Don’t worry, I didn’t throw it away.”, she said. I couldn’t care less about it, but I was still unsettled about not seeing it where it was supposed to be. We both sat on the bed. She started to choose the words, but I already knew what was coming. I wasn’t a part of her life anymore. I was just someone who she spent some time with. The realization hit me hard, as I laid my head against the wall. Sigh. I looked at her and saw the inevitable. She had moved on.   
                She explained, again, why she decided to leave. I needed to lay down. As soon as I did, she joined me. We were face to face, a few inches away from each other. I could feel her breath against my forehead. Everything was dark, so I could barely see her face. I started to get closer to her, bringing my body to hers. Although I could feel my lips touching hers, we didn’t kiss. A sudden feeling of depression hit me. I moved my head to her chest and simply wept. My heart was shattered in pieces. I lost everything that I had. I lost the single person that I cared the most. I couldn’t stop sobbing, gasping for air, as I shed tears of sadness. I cried myself to sleep that night. In nineteen years, it was the first time I ever did that: whimpered until I had no energy left, forcing me to finally rest.
                 It was probably the most comfortable place I ever stayed. There, in my ex-lover’s chest. 

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