segunda-feira, 7 de maio de 2012
quarta-feira, 7 de março de 2012
There she was. She didn’t know for how long. She just couldn’t remember when she finally noticed. None of this mattered anyway. She just wanted to find a way out. She was confused, desperate, sorry… Still there she was, staring at a wall.
Tears, from an open wound she hides, scaring her face. She can’t take any more of this but she can’t let it go. All the things she didn’t say being replayed in her head. She slips off into a dream about a place to hide from her thoughts. It is not that she would have done anything differently. Maybe she just wanted to be different. Maybe things would have taken another path… any other than this was ok. The hardest part of being your own worst enemy is the acknowledgement and the consent…
She has tried everything but nothing seemed to be able to untie those knots. It is easy to complain, but trying to be a good person… - “trying to put yourself in somebody else’s place is halfway from it.” As crazy as it seemed these words echoed from the wall! Whatever she was doing, it was working. She throttled saying that she was sorry and all she wanted was things back as they were, except for herself. She would try to make a home out of her arms and ears. She would drive along the highway with no blind spots. She would be water… After all she said: silence.
The room became as silent as it could be and remained that way for half an hour. It was almost unbearable. She had already cried silent tears and screamed desperate mute screams. She wished it was raining. The silence remained absolute for five more infinite minutes, until it was broken by another echo: “What people do not realize is that one single word, that means absolutely nothing to you, can bleed someone else… one single attitude can taste as bittersweet as a compilation of tragedies… a secret can…” She tried, in amazement, to talk but she couldn’t. Maybe she had finally understood…
“This world asks for so much, despite what you give it's just never enough. Then you're left cold tired and alone searching for something that's already gone. You try not to be afraid bound down by all of these things that they say and you feel like you're all by yourself. Maybe you are even though you don’t feel like it. Fears… they know when you're scared. Wherever you go they seem to meet you there, and you face them all on your own… never the weak always the strong. But this candle's burned at both ends for so long. I’m tired…”
“Why are you telling me this now? After being silent for so long…” – she asked.
“I have been talking the whole time...” – the wall says as he leaves.
quarta-feira, 29 de fevereiro de 2012
Perdido. Essa era a palavra que definia sua atual situação. O que uma vez o completou, agora simplesmente não fazia sentido. Logo para ele! Já havia tido um grande amor no passado, mas, por uma razão que ele não conseguia entender, este amor naquele passado havia ficado. Apenas sabia que o problema não era ele... De todo modo, é de se estranhar que o Cupido não encontre sentido ou explicação para o Amor.
Não se recordava quando o Amor havia parado de fazer sentido. Perdera litros de café e blocos de anotações refletindo sobre o assunto. Apenas aconteceu. Um eco crescente fazendo um incômodo brotar: O que é o Amor, afinal? - Talvez o Amor seja algo envolto por esse não saber... não. Talvez seja algo que só os poetas saibam explicar... também não. Talvez... – Sem uma resposta que o convencesse, Cupido decidiu falar com os maiores alvos de suas flechas.
Após tornar a dúvida pública, Cupido recebeu diversas cartas:
“Amar é quando se olha nos olhos de alguém e aqueles olhos te completam por inteiro. Esses são suas palavras, seus gestos, seus sorrisos. Esses olhos, de alguma forma, são uma extensão de você. Tudo muda quando você neles mergulha. Não há chefe, nem engarrafamentos. Não há tristeza nem sonhos vazios. Apenas os olhos. Aqueles olhos que são seus... que são você.”
“Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver;
É ferida que dói e não se sente;
É um contentamento descontente;
É dor que desatina sem doer.” É, definitivamente a explicação não está com os poetas.
“O amor é o melhor dos entorpecentes. O mundo se move diferente e de tudo se ri. Geralmente, o efeito da dose dura menos para um que para outro, aí se sabe que é chegada hora de provar um Amor diferente.”
"Nessas águas turvas de cardumes coloridos, o Amor não se faz misterioso. Todos têm sua Lua de algodão. É quando se consegue vestir o outro com tantos superlativos quanto possível - rosados, vermelhos, azuis, cinzas e negros - que se tem certeza de que aquele Amor é para chamar de seu. Em outras palavras lhe digo, caro Cupido, que a diferença entre UMA e A está na velocidade que o coração bate."
Depois da milionésima carta, Cupido, ainda sem resposta que lhe satisfizesse, resolveu dar uma volta. Caminhando por um imenso verde, com pontos lilases, vermelhos e amarelos que dançavam ao vento, avistou uma silhueta se desenhando ao longe. Como estava mergulhado em suas divagações, não deu atenção à figura que se aproximava num primeiro momento. Entretanto, conforme a distância diminuía, os traços tornavam-se mais claros e mais hipnóticos. A mulher, que parecia feita de tijolos amarelos e homens de lata apaixonados, lhe abriu o mais sorrido dos sorrisos e cantou que estava perdida. Nesse momento, cada pedaço de palavra que o Cupido tinha lido fez tanto sentido quanto podiam. Aqueles olhos que o completavam com um fogo que ardia e não se via... Aquela onda entorpecente de cardumes coloridos, banhados em superlativos... E o Amor não era mais incógnita, esse era pernas, olhos e cabelos! E o Cupido então tinha agora em suas mãos outra interrogação sem resposta: Amor à primeira vista? ...
quarta-feira, 8 de fevereiro de 2012
Wonderwall was echoing in John’s ears for the nineteenth time. Oasis’ verses had never made more sense. The fourth hour of the night had been long gone but still there was not the slightest trace of clarity in the horizon. The Moon was saying her goodbyes behind the tall buildings. The waves sounding indefectibly indifferent. His thoughts sounding dazedly different…
He kept on walking and mapping his numerous mishandled ellipses and a single placeless, as well as answerless, question mark. There was no use in screaming silent sighs for eyes that would never listen. Nevertheless it is all but unbearable to heart-shelter something that makes no sense in your head. Still, he heard, making sense in this life is all about making no sense at all.
John’s eyes, once color-blinded, had been presented to a whimsical watercolor. However, he was now almost drowning in shades of grey and hoping that things would get back to black and white.
Voices tell him that his bittersweet nigh-tragedy will not ask for absolution. Despite all that he has still got a melody inside of him looking for solution… a handful of fake future memories he had created in which he could see nothing but a happy ending. But there is no such thing. So he keeps on walking, hoping for the dawn to break on the horizon…
terça-feira, 24 de janeiro de 2012
We have been apart for three years now and I still relive that night every once in a while. The blink of an eye was enough to ignite the inevitable. I had thought of several shallow excuses that could work. Even though you were not convinced you would relinquish. No counter-answer. I was taking what I considered to be the right decision. Had I known what would follow, I might have done things differently.
There was a solid reason, though. One I never wanted you to know however, it turns out I am weaker than I have thought. There is something waning my heart besides leaving you behind. I have tried to spare you from witnessing such misery. It is a well known fact that a decaying smile is a contagious disease. Having thought about it I have decided that I’d rather have your hatred than your suffering.
I have planned everything and everything had gone according to the plan. So why do I feel this constant sting punching my heart? I can see clearly now how my mishandling of the situation has doomed me. I just wish I was not alone...
In spite of the guilt that is burned into my very being, that will haunt my every breath, I might have tried to survive, if only to see you again. But my best efforts only delayed the inevitable. I am here and you are not, that’s all I can think of.
Nevertheless all this moaning is pointless. I have made a decision that I was sure, even in that time, would affect my whole life. And here I sit. Gazing at the moon. It has always reminded me of you for no specific reason. A light in the dark, maybe. I don’t know if any of these words make any sense to you...
All I knew was that with you I’d want someone to save me... Does it make any sense to you?
A few pictures, two tickets from a trip we took a while ago. A handful of memories, some still seem clear. You were the best thing I had ever given up... Has it made any sense yet?
I was always a word cherisher. Never came out of my mouth one I didn’t mean to say. I love you ‘til the end... I hope it makes sense...
sexta-feira, 13 de janeiro de 2012
Não há nada no mundo como te olhar nos olhos.
Estes que me fascinam quando fitam,
Deleitam quando procuram
E morrem quando transbordam.
Ah! Teus olhos nos meus!
É como beber do céu de anil.
Faz definir amor em cor.
Quase verde, quase mel, quase meu.
Como é gostoso me perder
Ao mergulhar no teu olhar.
Inspiração de bem querer!
Expiração de apaixonar!
Quando me falam esses olhos, de fascínios fictícios,
Os decifro e os decoro, pois aprendi que eles sobram
Onde as palavras economizam...
Pois o coração guarda segredos para serem ditos em silêncio.
Gosto quando brilham ao olhar!
Como guardando a luz do luar
Por caminhada em noite fria,
Com a boca dizendo "adeus" e teu olhar dizendo "fica"...
E mesmo quando resisto,
Sou presa desse olhar
Que me guarda...alegra e fascina...
Que me decifra por inteiro.