domingo, 21 de febrero de 2010


Naciste para ser príncipe. Con la cabeza alta y mirada penetrante, el resto del mundo se agacha a tu paso. Siempre media sonrisa en la cara, regalo a aquellos que descubren en ti al espíritu de la antigua nobleza, fuerza y coraje en cada uno de tus gestos. El peso de los años sobre tu espalda hace temblar los mismos cimientos de tu ser, pero no causa tu rendición.

Naciste realeza, corazón y sangre hechos de montaña y viento. Con el final respirando en tu nuca, aun no agachas la cabeza, aun no dejas que te dominen, y a tu paso los inferiores seres se apartan. Y yo a tu lado, orgullosa, una reina sin reino.

Naciste para ser príncipe, pero fuiste vasallo. Dejaste tu libertad y tu grandeza por una caricia. El viento y la montaña por el amor incondicional de quien se sienta a tu lado, por proteger un cuerpo más pequeño, más frágil, más insignificante. Por amenizar mis noches oscuras con el canto de todos los antiguos dioses que aun vagan, asustados y desposeidos, por los bosques que ellos mismos crearon. Y das, sin recibir a cambio, con una sola mirada y una caricia el mundo entero.

Naciste para ser príncipe, mi príncipe.

viernes, 19 de febrero de 2010


Waking up to the warm feeling of the sun shinning over me. Maybe it's the false illusion of love curling all over my body, but spirits soar high, far up the clouds where you rest with your angelic smile, watching over me.

And I don't want to let go of it, it's too calm, too perfect, too ethereal and short-lasting. This feeling of innocence that was long gone by the moment I knew what I wanted, what I needed. Spent my childish beauty on lies and deceit, on stick figures of reality, and now that the sun's up and glaring all over us, now that I can see, it's sad that I have to see it go away.

Engraved you on my skin, tore me open for you, but you wouldn't come back, your breath only a whisper in the morning mist. Cold flesh and bones of mine, in the raw winter sunlight I can see your shadow looming all over me, looking after me, snuggling in the covers of my bed. I can see the mirror images of my eyes in yours, the same greyish shade of green and caramel dripping from the insides. The structure of your bones, the lips, so full, so begging, so very pale. The little things that makes us one, half souled and all.

Craving for your touch, for your embrace, I waste away, a withering image of what I once was, as I watch you leave as if in slow motion, dreams going back to where they belong, where I am the queen of the lovely mirrors, where I can stay beside you, protected by our army of cloned angels.

lunes, 1 de febrero de 2010

Severed rainbow

It's in the way it's strewn across the table. Laid there, in utter and precarious balance. One on top of the other, in a shapeless puzzle with no sense, but lots of sensitivity.

It's in the way it mingles with others, colours mixing like lovers, dirtying, cleaning, cutting and piercing. Beauty of what's fake, yet real.

Flavored with distaste and a sense of empty spaces, crowded with old memories and new forgotten deals, in between the clutter, there's hope. There's rest. There's sun and moon and a wolf too.

Weight of situations, and mistaken numbers that lead you to talk about the heart that's blue. The shiner and a shining. Boxes with things nobody will ever claim unless you throw them away, and amidst all this, the ray of light upon the surface, the rainbow, the severed rainbow.