14 | May | 2013

Go away, “muchachita”!

Its three o’clock in the morning, there’s an empty space on her side of the bed, which woke me up. I tried to put my arms around her, when I felt the perfect hollow in the shape of her head on the pillow and I felt lonely.

Still drugged by the dreams I had with her, I think I see a light through the open door. I know it’s she… and the certainty of her presence makes me smile. I can feel her even when I can’t see her… even when I cannot feel the contact of her breasts against my naked skin.

I hold her pillow against my chest, still bathe in her perfume. I hold it really tight, with all the strength I wish I can embrace her at this instant…. and I feel so jealous… jealous of the pen and those papers where she is surely writing her soul down at this moment. And I love her…. with this mature love, constant, invariable, faithful. I love her, although to the world it seems like madness.

***

It’s three o’clock in the morning. I woke up a few minutes ago… my head full of verses to shape into a poem. I’ve tried to make as little noise as possible, so I won’t wake him up… no without contemplating him first, long and wide.
He’s like a child when asleep… serene, beautiful, content… smiling as he dreams. I only miss his evergreen eyes in such enchanted scene.

– Go away, “muchachita”- he whispered between his tongue and mine. – Little girl of sweet lips and eyes like arrows. Don’t you see the longer you delay, the hardest you’ll be to resist. Go away, “muchachita”, before I beg you to stay with me, forever.

His words still echoes in my head as if it was yesterday. A plea we both knew, I wasn’t going to listen. Tomorrow it will be four years of loving his green eyes, his childish smile and his mischievous winks. And I wish I can write for him my best poem; to confess him that in my sandy heart he has been the firm oak, of deep roots, impossible to remove… that I will always be by his side, loving him until the end of times, although to the world we seem like madness.