from that little black notebook of mine

and the sun was high up in the sky, like a clear beam of thoughts. the day blew a warm breeze that brought dust to my eyes. I washed with tears. the sand was hot and hard underneath my feet, and it warmed up my blood. I sat by the sea to try to find peace of mind, sat on the shade of the rocks underneath the pier. but I couldn’t find it. the waves crashed strong against the rocks, the water agitated, making the ships halt in their path. and my heart halted in my chest as well. little crabs crawled between the slits, black as tar, disappearing. they crawled between my toes, their little legs scratching my skin. then the sea always came, to wash them away. and my mind was ashore, my heart was adrift. I could not be allowed the peace. I was too strangled by strings of many events and too many feelings, feelings such I could not name, but that, by experience, resembled – I was fearful of that – love. a million images conjured in my head, all images of you. images of your little crooked tooth that made you smile with a closed mouth – self-conscious you were about this -, images of your little flaws. I loved this image of you, it made you so human, an earthly muse that walked among us, breathtakingly so, but that could be touched by us, mere mortals. except for me. because I couldn’t touch you, no matter how much I longed, for you kept yourself in arms length. to me you were still unattainable. and that fresh, first feeling of new love became pain, for I was sure that this experience would be, once again, of rejection. but I had to walk this path, move on, even though unsure of shelter. I had to walk towards you, even if it meant that we would crash. I was willing to crash, I was willing to hurt – I knew that one of us had to fall for the other to be lifted up. and, oh boy, I fell hard, and I fell fast. and the sea made me desperate, and the sea made me want to jump, for the waves crashed and crashed, determined to bend and break me. like you. and I swallowed my pride, because I was willing. for you. on my knees. I would give it to you (everything). even though I longed to find shelter in your arms but couldn’t. embrace me, please, my love, for I am only a child. I’m begging. give me shelter in that little crooked tooth, or in the sharp edges of your clavicles. give me shelter in the square angles of your jaw. or kill me. strangle me in my own heart’s strings, scatter my bones all over the stones, because you can if you want. I’d give (in). I’m only this jaded child, weird, shy. I am this adoring devotion. I am son of the divorced parents, willing to give. this (me) is all I can give (you). kill me, for you are allowed. kill me, for I am willing.

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One Response to “from that little black notebook of mine”

  1. Edmundo Says:

    Is the madness untouched a bad dream ?

    Like

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