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The second I failed
The second my eyes found you, every single piece of paper around me spontaneously combusted. Every pen entered a gap in space and time that I had no access to. From the second my eyes found you, I didn't write any more poetry.
The second my steps molded to yours , I painted all my walls red. I plucked all the flowers from the vases and hid them from myself. From the second my steps molded to yours, I unlearned to dance without your messy rhythm.
The second my hand carved yours to fit mine perfectly, I covered my mirrors. My reflection no longer walked alone. All surfaces seemed too small to reflect what I saw. From the second my hand carved yours to fit mine perfectly, I screamed into the void and kept the sound in a velvet box at the back of my closet.
The second I noticed the silence in my ears when I felt you breathe, I made sure to play the most strident melodies on my old guitar, I turned up the piano volume and begged for the noise to cover the beat of my heart. The second I noticed the silence in my ears, my heart unlearned to exist outside the beat, your beat.
The second I loved you for the first time with that unique weight, that accursed weight of the art of loving, I prayed that you would unlearn all the forms of poetry my soul had learned to fantasize about. The second I loved you for the first time with that single weight, I wanted to become a blank canvas.
In all the pounding seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks and months that my body was filled with the softest color of the sky, that my feet memorized that quiet waltz of yours, that my eyes no longer recognized the weight of tears of pain, my face screamed through the sting of the angriest tears that ever welled up in my being.
In all the seconds that you gave me the most serene sea, I gave you minutes of my waves that threatened to swallow us. In all the hours you wrapped me in the sweetest perfume around your neck, I counted the days for you to forget the exaggeration of mine. In all the months that your wide eyes swept me off my feet, I visualized mine fixed on the calendar, counting the years so that I could finally show you the tranquility of mine, outside the fog created to blur what threatened to become clear.
I wanted you in the same proportion that I wouldn't accept the fact that you had wanted me one day. I hated you for the ease of seeing love in you. I hated you for the silence that expelled the noise that taught me to protect myself. I feared your arrival, but not as much as I dread your departure.
In every second, I tried to create the most inhospitable environment for our obnoxiously loud laughs, hoping you wouldn't realize that the tone of mine was orchestrated by the existence of yours. In every second, I didn't allow myself to show you my silence, terrified that my eyes would scream against my will.
In every second, I saw you looking forward to the minutes. The minutes taken by the absurd subjects, by the tears of naivety, by the glimpses of what “me and you” meant. All my attempts seemed like failures. Nothing scared you. Nothing made you want to look at the clocks and anticipate the moment I would no longer be by your side. Nothing made you see, but nothing allowed me to authorize you to take off my own blindfold.
My noise was music in the echo of your room, your pulsating chest was a guide to my unbalanced steps. My fog softened the glow on your lip as you threatened to smile.
My attempt to unbalance us created a compass that only your heart could coordinate.
Your heart became the only one capable of tackling mine's survival instinct.
Your presence created an entire constellation in the sky that visited my window every night.
Its absence would leave a silence that is not self-contained.
Its absence would put all the mirrors back on my walls and show me a reflection that started walking alone again.
Your absence would be the strongest threat of calm that my heart could ever suffer.
Your absence would mean the end of the note that lingers after our song.
Your absence would come the second my heart threatened to make itself audible.
In every second, I calculated the exact frequency of each beat, in an attempt to camouflage each one in time.
At the last second, I failed
At the last second, I saw that your eyes had begun to reflect the confusing haze of mine.
At the last second, I broke the clock
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