263

A short story

I'm done with ending

I dislike pretending

that it's okay

to simply hide my pain

whilst making this way;

I'm not able to do that.

I want to be a little girl

at least once again

just to read our story,

click through pages

in restrospective,

then flash forward

to the chapter

where this never ends

so that we pretend

it's not over yet.

254

Sunsets

Sunsets are not the same

no, baby, not at all.

Neither is my soul, non-stop

you know, time fucking flies

hark! tick tock tick tock

What time is it now?

Is it soon or is it too late for us,

for me to come and sit by your side?

245

Mourning III

Si algo comprendí

a lo largo de estas semanas,

para mi sorpresa cuatro

de este espantoso hiato

es que aún me encantás,

me gustás demasiado,

sin embargo

no puede ser, no será,

pues aquello que me gusta

es la idea que me hice de vos.

No soy la misma,

no pretendo mirar hacia atrás.

La situación me hace infeliz,

de mismo modo

la distancia emociona,

la distancia geográfica.

Me atraés con fuerza magnética,

no lo intentaré negar;

seguís siendo mi musa inspiradora

aún en la oscuridad,

en total clandestinidad,

la de mis sábanas

aunque me resista con uñas y dientes

a la posibilidad de regresar.

Tal vez nuestras ramas

se tomaron licencia

de crecer en forma desmedida,

se fueron, se alejaron,

en otra realidad se encuentran ahora.

Tal vez vaya siendo hora

del lazo espiritual

al fin quebrantar,

tal vez sea tiempo

de antes del verano

las ramas llegar a podar.

244

Mourning II

Me trago los sentimientos

casi que guardo dolor

cual ampolla de pus,

como si mi corazón

fuera un chaleco antibalas

sin amor para vos;

cuando en verdad no es tal

la fortaleza en mi alma.

A veces, debo admitirlo,

fantaseo con sentirlo así.

Tengo hambre,

tengo sed,

soy tan vulnerable

me desespera

no saber

qué

hacer;

pues me acostumbré,

tales necesidades las cubría

el propio ser,

luego por mutuo cariño,

antaño inconmensurable.

Una vez más en este lugar

me he quedado en cero-

Extenuada me siento

no hay energía

no hay predisposición

para pasarla un poco mejor;

sólo siento que extraño,

pero hace falta más,

mucho más que eso

para volver a considerarlo

otro posible tormento.

Me devoro los sentimientos

sin agua, sin anestesia los trago,

te muestro como si no,

indiferencia hacia lo que ocurrió;

nada más alejado de la realidad.

Total normalidad,

nada para proyectar.

Pura intuición acá,

mas porto esa certeza

de que el mareo puedo soportar.

¿A ver hasta cuándo,

a ver para cuándo

seguir repitiendo y no marchar?

243

Mourning I

Aún no lo descifro,

causales, variables,

cansancio, frustración.

Un paradigma harto relativo

áquel que se me presentó –

¿Quién habrá sido

ese monumental vencedor?

Ya no descarto nada

tal vez fueron los dos.

De todos modos

poco de esto ya importa,

pues me reduje a cero.

Incolora, nula, inerte;

aquí un desierto yace.

240

Uterus

My uterus started crying

before lights abandoned me.

Blood seems to have died slowly,

and so does our mutual affection, honey.

Your voice is yelling so silently

it barely sounds like nothing

in the middle of nowhere,

the Lut desert, no oasis.

Pain, decay, suffering –

all guests to enjoy the party

every sensation but caring,

looking after each other,

looking forward to bad times enduring.

Each of them, they all arrive,

they gather, they await

for my very last act,

until the dreadful finale.

239

Diecisiete

Un día entero para llorar

con exactitud diecisiete horas

lloriqueando por lo que no fue.

Irrumpió con rayos y truenos

a la falacia libró su suerte

se desató la magia, la barbarie

de quienes odian las interrupciones

de quienes detestan ser detestados

de quienes gotea lo que no podrán desear.

235

Barco

Todos piden saltes del barco,

nadie sabe nada de nadar

ni siquiera sé si quiero

tal vez note que éste es el mar muerto

se hunde aquel barco,

aquél del que nunca hemos zarpado,

que no hay a dónde escapar

más que a los recuerdos, la memoria

de lo que no se ha concretado,

de lo que jamás se compartirá.

234

Río

En la oscuridad,

en el calor de tu mano,

ahí me encontré

de nuestro camino

ya en la debacle,

de vuelta a nuestros cauces.

225

Routine

I do not know

what to say exactly

but something is for sure

I am full of uncertainty.

Anguish is everyday here,

a clear reminiscence of the past.

I just go to bed,

I just go to sleep,

I just go to work,

all this totally inanimate.

I meet my duties,

yet unable to find peace of mind.

Routine is killing me,

thoughts slaughtering me,

this time maybe silence

may become an opportunity

in order to grow up.

203

Eternity

After such a long year

making an effort to leave

to finally close that curtain

for once and all say it's over

to now read this message

inviting me to carefully listen

unable to remotely cope with

unable to fully comprehens

all a past life knocking at my door.

Now it's compressed, called "art",

now everywhere being sung,

now everyone their head bang,

whilst I still remember clearly

the night that song was born.

192

Desencanto

Tus ojos no pueden ser el sol,

el día se torna nublado,

ya no recuerdo qué día es hoy,

todo acá huele a pasado.

Quiero escapar de este lugar,

descender del muro de mi lamentos,

quiero pensar que aún puedo,

que sobreponerse es cuestión de tiempo.

A veces es mi propio cuerpo

aquel que se ve tan vulnerable,

excede toda capacidad de habla

a cuentagotas me quita el aliento.

162

Exfoliation

Exfoliation

as if all problems

were magically solved

by just taking

dead creatures off,

by just removing

some of my dirt,
as if by that means

the wound that hurts

were a spot to extirpate.

Yet am I incapable

of getting that done;

who am I fooling?

I still miss your touch,

your tender caress,

your thuthful smile,

your lovely green eyes

when you're not around.

Why is it even today

so hard to say goodbye?

only to find out

that it's just me in bed,

in fact, nostalgia and I.

When will it come that day,

that liberation day,

when I finally put an end,

not a dash but a final stop;

then that big box

with your name on

is finally locked out?

I hope it will happen

soon after this poem

is released as a sort of prayer

so as to prevent that film,

those repeated scenes,

that well known script

from going on and on.

151

Stormy

There's a severe storm

it has not stopped,

not since five o'clock.

That was in the morning,

but still, I'm soaking wet,

I'm now wearing red

as if bright colours

were to put an end

to this eternal cry

which is happening,

which is going on right now.

I think I'll move forward,

intending to finally forget

what is lying behind.

150

Cloudy II

Motivation tends to decrease,

the affective filter is raised

after getting up every day

to realise that at least here

the Sun has not come out yet.

Thirteen days and counting,

we seem to be slowly dying,

leave each day fall

having grown sick and tired

of this fake autumn.

149

Cloudy I

How many days

can humans survive

without seeing the sun

come out to say hi?

I actually miss it

I miss watching a sunset,

I miss its dry hug

before early nights arrive.

It's somehow depressing

when you're aware it's there,

yet you won't get the chance

to gaze at its bright colours today.

146

Disruptive

How far are you willing to go on?

How long trying to run off?

Nothing, in fact, changes at all

unless you stop feeling drown

with each of you teardrops.

Stop acting like a victim,

martyrs are not popular;

why not investing energy and time,

and master that ability instead

of finally moving forward?

131

Greyish

Days pass like a disgrace,

every depiction of life looks grey,

and flowers have no smell

unless you are out there.

I urgently ask for your presence,

nothing here looks the same,

I think about you night and day -

your poems are like fresh air.

125

Writer's block #2

It was yesterday

the world poetry day,

but I just couldn't,

couldn't come up with an idea

once again, like a beginner.

It is as if the whole magic,

all the great thoughts

once and only released for a purpose

that of creating, that of writing

my first prose notebook.

Therefore, I'm terribly sorry

there's nothing I wish to write.

I know should I neither worry

nor even should I apologise

for this part of my life cycle.

Soon, perhaps in the long run

I probably might be able

to make a careful observation,

for deep instrospection to happen;

yet I'm not in the mood for that.

110

Well known

I knew every small detail,

all your reactions,

all your sayings.

I knew what you'd do for pleasure,

what you'd do on certain occassions,

especially if you were under pressure.

To be brutally honest,

I knew everything I had to know,

so there was nothing beyond -

not even love.

That's it, I just got bored.

There was no big surprise

after such a long time

for me to go forth

to finally step outside

and that threshold trespass -

rather than simply saying "no more",

instead of with you going on.