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domingo, 20 de marzo de 2016

Short Stories III


She forgot him the only she knew how:
By running away,
By burning bridges,
By burying the moments,
By never looking back...


There it was, again, the feeling of wanting something irrationally when you have or may have something certainly better.


When fate steps in,
Only remain in our hands to choose the ending.


I'll start from scratch,
If you want, come with me,
I can simply promise the unexpected.
I have never truly known where to go.


In this lopsidedness:
You may arrive too late for a change
Or too early to carry on as before…  


They had been seeing each other,
Everywhere,
without a word
As if a strange force
refused to keep them apart.


Not everyone can be broken into pieces: for that you would have to have fought for at least a thousand and one dreams.


In this sadness,
A future we will never share
And the hope of seeing you again
The silence falls.


Promise me that the time we are not together
will not erase everything we've been through.
Even if this exile lasts a thousand years.


It was not that the flame had extinguished
It is that just that for one day,
We had lost interest in the fire.


Sometimes I feel that the walls restraining our insatiable madness are made of crumbling rationality.


Life is an endless series of goodbyes where no matter who has left, all that remains is the soul of those who have said goodbye.


In that moment I discovered,
That smiling at you was the greatest conscious act in what had been an improvised life.


Some memories are like chasms, if you lean in, it is almost impossible to come back whole.


Words do not remove the poison,
But they relieve the pain from the wound.


If in years,
any of this still makes sense
Come back and look for me.
Life is about moments
and this...
wasn’t ours.


In my personal hell,
Demons have your laugh
I'm blind
and you are not there.


We were two toothed-gear. We were stuck on an never-ending loop. We rotated and rotated. For an instant, we touched before the wheel of time span forward. 

miércoles, 16 de marzo de 2016

Microcuentos del 1 al 15 de marzo de 2016


Se nos fue la magia
e hicimos de aquello una pseudociencia extraña
donde no nos salían las cuentas
y la inercia nos aprisionaba.

Tras caerme me di cuenta de que un camino oculto surgía a mi derecha.
Era arriesgado y diferente, justo lo que estaba buscando.

Algunas historias vuelven tras un periodo de largo silencio, como si alguien cogiera de nuevo el libro que dejó abandonado.

Te borré de mi lista de amores para la historia porque nunca fui capaz de perdonarme la forma en que arruiné las cosas.

Siempre se equilibraban
los motivos por los que te quería,
con aquellos por los que te odiaba.
Inestabilidad exacta.

Un día tus ángeles y mis demonios
rompieron esta tregua,
me devolviste la sonrisa
en tierra de nadie
y estalló la guerra.

Quizá la amistad consista en tener a quién contar dónde escondemos nuestros pilares, por si un día nos llegamos a derrumbar.

Nunca fuimos de rendirnos.
Por eso, en vez de cambiar de río cuando venía un recodo con rápidos, construíamos una mejor barca.

Al final consistía en elegir a quién traicionar:
A ti, acabando con lo nuestro.
A mi corazón, que ya no sentía igual.

Tal vez todo está tranquilo porque llevas un tiempo girándote en la frontera de tu zona de confort.
Es hora de salir fuera.

Intentamos crear recuerdos haciendo planes perfectos y pronto nos encontramos olvidando todo aquello que no fuera improvisado.

Aguantaron un poco más,
pero la suerte ya estaba echada.

Y tenía con las oportunidades la fe del francotirador.
Que deja pasar algunas ocasiones, sabiendo que tendrá un disparo mejor.

Determinadas personas vuelven a tu vida sin que haya más explicación que aprender la lección de no volver a abrir esa puerta.