Wind

And it is waiting that I find details that allow me to stand the sweet peculiarity of your instability.

Not knowing what it is to come is comforting and grotesque.

I wander through the fine borders that bring me to you, guessing the feeling that defines my contrasting appreciation for loneliness.

I starve myself of pleasures as kids depriving themselves of fun in order to get the higher prize of recognition.

I despise this act for keeping me away from breaths of love, in the middle of a random, reckless night.

But also as kids, I let myself forget of vows I make to the air, and in a second of impulse I jump into the thought of longing for you.

And almost drowning into the possibilities I make out, I laugh.

I disappear behind shades of concrete, and for a moment I become a wall that sees.

And it is there, on those moments, that I convert what can kill me into new eyes that bring life to the unseen.

If the wind had a color it would be different than the airs.

It would be a color with a smell of wisdom.

Who said the wind is colorless anyway?

To see the wind it is necessary to sooth the mind with closing eyes.

The wind always carries little shining dots and kind growing sensations. And as it blows harder and harder, it brings the clouds I created for you.

The sounds it makes are only a gift of salutation to the beauty that one subtle moment can exude.

Open the windows even if the strong air scares you, because it is just my guts screaming love to you...

Fly on Me!

If at least you could swallow the attitude that makes you so desirable and disgusting at the same time, I could make a line for you.

I'd put you there and you'd walk through it as a bird in a cage.

And I'd make you whistle for me, every time I felt lonely.

And you could wave your tale if you felt hungry.

I'd feed you with pieces of my skin, until I was all you.

And when you discharged what your body rejected of me, I'd grow as a tree under your cage.

I'd grow so strong it would break your home and you'd be free again.

You'd fly away looking for some more of me. And when tired you returned, you'd make your home on my branch.

There, after finding nothing but the smell of my presence, you'd find some little cute bird, and you'd make baby birds on her.

And you'd put your eggs on a nest laying on me. All the kids would admire that image of life and happiness when they passed by.

And I would always regret to have drawn you that line once. And I’d regret feeding you.

I'd be there contemplating the nasty nest living on me.

I'd be only in peace when the kids laughed with us with their eyes.

And you would be just a bird confused, with a little bit of me, always so close you could not see...