Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits...

The heart is no stranger to mistake. It is constantly in touch with the good and the bad of our spirit... the lighter colors and the darkest shades, calibrating the inconsistencies and desperatly trying to save our souls. 

It is able to formulate and illustrate beauty or ugliness through the shadows of the emotions we carry inside, often trying to compensate for the frailties we won't admit. 

It searches for balance changing directions time after time and becoming incredibly invested in the pursuit of true happiness, trying to strive and search forevermore.

In this heart's quest for eternal bliss, shielding our soul from one's personal demons and masking a neediness we might not want to accept, is no dishonesty... There's nothing but a sense of instinctive protection that can trick the believer we hide within to hold on to feelings that are not complete. 

As we fear rejection and our own weakness, we easily create noisy illusions of love... mistakes we plunge into, because life will always seem lonely enough without little empty spaces in our bed.

When realizing and facing these fantasies of a love that never really was, some of the people we get close to, even those we might have deemed greatly important to us, become strangers.

The thought alone is depressing as you might one day look back to only find the shadows of some of the people who made you, you... people who were great comfort even if just momentarily, lovers you unknowingly loved so incompletely.
However, in this clarifying moment, there's a distinct certainty that the heart you thought was broken is still beating as a whole inside your chest. There's no part of you left behind. There's no part of you to be rescued... it's all still intact, piece by piece, ready for another mistake.
Ready for the final mistake.



"See, honey, i am not some broken thing

I do not lay here in the dark waiting for thee

No my heart is gold. my feet are light

And i am racing out on the desert plains all night."

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Let's go to Paris you and I. Catch a plane into the night and disappear together in the city of lights. Let's walk along the Seine, sip french wine and share a baguette while listening to our sweet autumn songs of desire. We will be corny and we will be cliché, but most of all, we will be sickeningly in love.

Love in times of war.

"You ruin it all with your anxiety", you once told me. I cried as the guilt came rushing through my veins, while the sorrow of your absence, of your avoidance, slowly darkened my soul.

You forget, my dear, it was you that cowardly hid behind your fears, quietly choosing to deliberately hurt me, to wilfully disown myself of your feelings. Your choice asphyxiates my hope and I have to kill the love that was making everything brighter.

In such a gloomy world, full of cynicism and hatred, loving became the sin, the mistake, the odd choice and yet, I can't stop loving the hopeful dreams that night brings and that no harsh daylight can make me forget.

I'll always regret the words I never told you... I'll regret being stopped by this overwhelming shame of feeling the way I do.

There's no right time to know what love is, there's no choice to be made rationally. Love is when it wants to be, when the soul touches this infinite, indescribable force that connects all that exists. 

I felt ashamed. And anxious. And now, so sad. 

I know it was not pertinent, not asked for, but nevertheless love exists within me, for you. It came to me as this brand new feeling, as different as it can be from any other love that ever was for me, but as powerful as I remember it from distant times.

I felt the need to apologize. Apologize to you, to myself, to the world. I had committed the ultimate crime and dared to let myself love the perfectly imperfect soul that you are. 
I am so very sorry, my dearest, for I get the sense I must apologize for love in these times when war seems to prevail.

I had to deceive my own self, trying to be convinced that you were no path, tricking you to believe my heart was not yours afteral. 

I had to mislead my feelings to stop me from whispering in your ear, "let me stay by your side", "let me in and I'll be yours forever". I would. How cliché. How cinematic.

I know you never wanted to hear it, I know how despicable this is these days, I know I had no right... and so I just hushed my heart and let shame swallow me in.

How sad.

I am sorry.

I am sorry I loved you so easily, with no reason or judgment.
I am sorry I dreamed so stupidly, with no restraint or logic.
I am sorry you became, so quickly, the home I keep trying to find. 

I am sorry, above all, I wasn't brave enough to ever tell you... you were all! 

I am sorry this will go to waste now.

Love should be no shame and yet, I have to hide.

"If you must wait

Wait for them here in my arms as I shake

If you must weep

Do it right here in my bed as I sleep

If you must mourn, my love

Mourn with the moon and the stars up above

If you must mourn

Don't do it alone.

You are all."

                                               Keaton Henson

On time and heartaches.

Oh let me tell you about this strange continuum in which life occurs in an apparently succession from past to future... let me tell you about this irreversible relativity that is time. 

The more you live, the less you have it, but the more you long for it. It seems to go faster as years go by and yet, at moments, when you most need it to speed up, it slows down like the unhurried pace of a lazy snail. The minutes take days to end and everything stops and thickens as you hurt. 

Time, they say it is of the essence, and I say, at times, it is of salvation. The salvation of a soul when it's breaking, of a heart when it's aching, of my heavy bones carrying a fainting body. 

Only time can heal, can lift the weakened spirit and save from sorrow. Only time. 

A waiting game sometimes. The patience of let it all fly by... the anger of the damage, the mourning, the sadness, the memories that won't ever be. 

Only time, in its infinite mercy, can lighten the burden of what will be the eternal longing of a lost love, a lost past, a lost present and a never existing future...
Only time accumulating can bury the acute pain of loss and make it less palpable, less strangling, not so overpowering. 

The scars will stay, the love, if real, won't go and yet it will all be bearable as time goes by. It will all be bearable. 

Stand by. Don't hurry the precious lifeline. Take a deep breath and know that it's a matter of time.

It is a matter of time, I say.

Heartaches don't last forever.

Oh let me tell you about these saving minutes, so many of them, that take forever to run by.



The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you.
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.
No, I don't want to fall in love.

                                                                      Chris Isaak

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Let's go home tonight, drink too much gin and star in movies of our own. We'll dance and laugh and fool around. The sun will be a witness when my tired body finally finds some rest, laying in bed with your arms holding me tight. I'll feel you breathing deep against my neck and dream of a future that I can only wish would be ours. 

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Let's go home, my love, be silly and fun. You'll be mine for this night, the next morning and every single day that will follow. I'll cook some pancakes while you still sleep. I'll wake you slowly stroking your curls as I gently kiss your neck. We can spend hours, that will seem like seconds, listening to music and laying lazily, naked in my bed. It will be happy. It will be love... It will be home.

A future that never was.

In no time I will leave and runaway, my love. If I wouldn't, I know you would...

Leave me, hurt me, unlove me, darling... As I am the good one to leave behind!

Our paths won't meet no more sweetheart and I am bound to miss a future that will never be... Just like I missed, eternaly, before, another tomorrow that never came to exist.

I am bound to miss, to long, to yearn... And still stand on my pillar of hope.

I'll be longing for all the kisses we won't kiss, my baby... the stories, the laughs, the mornings, the afternoons and the nights... all those years we won't ever share.

I will miss what I never danced with you, my dearest, what we never traveled or all your friends I never met.

You won't solve all my misteries and I won't appease your fears... 

I won't get to love what you keep hiding from me, my beautiful baby. We won't rejoice at all our conquers or lean against each other when the troubles seem too many for one single soul to carry.

I won't ever discover how many wrinkles will the corner of your smiley eyes acumulate over the years, honey. And I won't tell you, every morning when I wake up, how I love those little wrinkles... and even more, those eyes.

Your chest won't be my pillow no more and I'll be forever missing your neck where I hide my face in those midweek Sunday mornings, feeling my breath against your skin.

I won't feel again your heart beating against my chest, nor will I look at you and me standing together in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing our teeth and smiling at the perfection of such ordinary moment.

I won't count your white hairs over the years and there won't be anything, ever, for us to call ours.

I won't be annoying. You won't be stubborn. There won't ever be mountains for us to climb, nor problems for us to fight.

There won't be birthdays to share, festive moments, endless summer days or any winter nights, curled up together with the rain outside.

There won't be growing old together, nor growing love...

I will leave, my love.

You would leave me, anyhow...

... and this future I'm longing for, just never was, sweet baby of mine.

Bye-bye.

"From the mountains to the sea
And the city
From the valleys to the moon
In every country

I will be there
Standing beside you
I will be there
Standing by your side."
                       
                                        Odessa