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...