Maldita sea.

Hoy he hablado con él.
Él me ha saludado primero.
Y no me ha vuelto a mandar más mensajes desde hace horas.
Parezco una chica de esas desesperadamente enamoradas.
Y no me gusta.
Sólo quiero estar con él un montón de veces.
Salir con él a escondidas, sin que nadie lo sepa.
Maldita sea, quiero besarle.
Pero ya no puedo.
Maldita sea.
(Ni que hubiese podido antes.)

Especial.

Sinceramente, no sé por qué Nueva York es tan sumamente especial para mí.
Nunca he estado en esa ciudad, pero daría lo que fuera por visitarla.
Le tengo mucho cariño.

 

Poemas.

Me parece importante compartir dos poemas que me encantan aunque estén en inglés.

"Comes The Dawn"

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn.

 Veronica A. Shoffstall

 "A Person, A Paper, A Promise"

“Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines 

he wrote a poem 
And he called it “Chops” 
because that was the name of his dog 
And that’s what it was all about 
And his teacher gave him an A 
and a gold star 
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door 
and read it to his aunts 
That was the year Father Tracy 
took all the kids to the zoo 
And he let them sing on the bus 
And his little sister was born 
with tiny toenails and no hair 
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a 
Valentine signed with a row of X’s 
and he had to ask his father what the X’s meant 
And his father always tucked him in bed at night 
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it “Autumn”
because that was the name of the season
And that’s what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it “Innocence: A Question”
because that was the question about his girl
And that’s what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle’s Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That’s why on the back of a brown paper bag 

he tried another poem 

And he called it “Absolutely Nothing” 

Because that’s what it was really all about 

And he gave himself an A 

and a slash on each damned wrist 

And he hung it on the bathroom door 

because this time he didn’t think 

he could reach the kitchen.”

Dr Earl Reum

Pale face.

Me gustaría tener la piel pálida sólo para amar un poquito más esta canción.