She Will Never Come Back.

As you know this is actually true. She will never come here anymore. Double negative. There is nothing that bothers me more than that but I have to accept this fact. Life is not always as we planned, we got to go through it taking responsibilities and decisions, working very hard for all the matters that we should accomplish.

But what is that for? Why do we lose our life trying to get others back, fighting to gain a little piece of it in this confusing jungle of thoughts? Maybe you will never come back but you are now here with me and you will be inside forever. You have taught me so much; your mark is deeply instilled in my head, heart and hands. I learned from you that life is an approach for nothing and nevertheless we must live it up reaching it all over.

I got a lot from you letting you go. You’ve given us an undescriptive universe of words to be discovered every time we are in front of it. Treasures. Tons of stories to take, life to see, prisons to break. Actions that cannot be ignored by the repetitively ongoing of living.

I know you will never be here again. I’m trying to let you go because you deserve to rest, you need it so, and it’s hard to say sorry in such farewell.

Anyhow I want to have you here with me, teaching me more. Showing me the path to be taken but carefully leaving me making my choices up by myself, and again I say sorry. I’m sorry for nothing, perhaps for being a fool.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have lunch with you yesterday. I needed to rest.”

Don’t be sorry. You did so much and I am doing nothing.

She will never come back, but she won’t let me go away. She will stay in here forever while I will be letting her free. She needs to rest and she deserves it. Her hands will take the universe from here to shine in me. I don’t know how to say thank you, I think I just need to say sorry and let you go far away from me, but in me forever, until I get like you my own rest.

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Audipost: Daniel Barenboim & West-Eastern Divan - Beethoven's 7th Symphony, Movement II.

Ed J.L

Falling Stars (rv. 2021).

Fotografía por @cannibalita

***

-----—I have too much love.
-----How many words can go out naked into the cold embrace of bittered weather?
-----Too much love in a gray street, with the clap of sorrow running away from there. They took their hands, squishing all the corners of the skin. The winter flies far alone in the middle of the sun, surrounded by clouds, using its power to make a sincere light in her eyes, like a memory frozen in a picture. On the image of such a gray dream.
-----—You should have it…
-----You shouldn’t. Look at the way we're taking. Look at all the clues hiding from us, like in motion when it dies. Streets moving in synchronized steps with words that say nothing. Her hands, frozen hands, draw a line in the past.
-----—You should not live in the line of time. I need you here, at this moment. Into all seconds of our history, looking to the way to move into the future using our hidden forces in our souls to conquer our feelings.
-----You are thinking about that like wishful thinking, and it is not easy. Isn’t it? Well, we’ll find the right moment to make it in. An old woman sees her clothes at the bus stop, then smiles when recalling her impressions of a personal memory. It seemed like personal memories flooded the street, totally, totally drowning them over.
-----A kiss at the bus stop brokes his heart. They split their hands, and he waits to close the door to leave the cold of the impossible for him.
-----—Can you come down right here and hug me? I love you. I love you with all my times. With my past and my future. With dreams that are inside of me and fulfilled me with hope.
-----Hoarfrost. Clouds. Bitterness. The bus closed the doors. Perhaps I will.
-----—Can you wait for things to occur and let the obsession-of-wanting-everything-to-be-perfect going away? We are just us, for us. We don't need a timeline to describe us. All we need is ourselves. Nothing else.
-----Too much love in a gray street, with the clap of sorrow running away from there. Too much in both souls, with the shame of a cold-weather bittering time.

-----We have too much love, we got too much love, and we've never started.
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AudioPost: Unkle - Falling Stars.
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"Stars are reachable"

Ed J.L