Aún entre las risas de lo intangible
susurros de mar me traen claridad,
entre sílabas imperceptibles,
bancos de arena y sorbos de sal.
La mar siempre me lava las ideas,
el destino y mi afán…
De usar palabras falsas y mentiras,
de decir que eres mía y nada más.
Verde se encuentra
el lunático en el césped,
recordando juegos verdes
que ayer jugara
detrás de la cerca,
donde el pasto
siempre es más verde.
y su verde voz
de tonto en la colina,
se desliza en la brisa
veraniega y florida:
Verde te quiero ver
y ser tan verde que verme quieras.
que tus labios rojos
y que el azul de tus ojos
besen los rayos del sol.
- Emmanuel Ortiz Garza
"Hay tiempo de luchar y tiempo de dar por perdido.
Cuando aún sea el tiempo de luchar, da lo mejor de ti a la otra persona y perdona y sigue intentando. Así, si llega el tiempo de dar por perdido, tendrás la tranquilidad interior de que luchaste y diste lo mejor de ti.”
“There were always warning signs but you were blinded by hope and and thoughts like, ‘Maybe this time it’ll be different’. You chose to stay inside a burning building until the smoke became too thick to clear and the foundation began to crack. But now it was time to get yourself out. No one tells you, though, that trying to move on is a kind of death that you inflict upon yourself. People always make it sound so easy, as if by emptying the stuff in your house, you can empty yourself of the love you still feel.
The memories you have like to coddle you. Laughter and late nights drunk on the feeling of being young and infatuated. They deposited in you the way sand deposits onto wet summer skin. They stick on you in the most unconventional places, underneath fingernails and knobby knees. But you let them stay because it reminds you of how you were once in the water and the sun was beating on your neck.
You now know that was how you ruin yourself.
Before the word us turned into something singular, everything had already changed. You look back, really look back, and you see that he is not the same. And neither are you. So you release the fists clenching onto the past and you take off your rose-colored glasses.
You used to mistake the silhouette on the wall for yourself. Used to think of yourself as a stray cat scratching on his door, waiting to be let in again. Not anymore.
It takes time for you to realize that your life with him is not juxtaposed. It’s not as simple as a before and after.
When you finally let go, it is like opening your front door and seeing yourself standing there again.
Welcome home, it’s been so long. ”
El dolor de quedarte luchando una batalla perdida.
O el dolor de irte preguntándote si realmente ya no había esperanza.