“I no longer lover her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”
Tonight I Can Write by Pablo Neruda
In twenty love poems and a song of despair (2004)
I wish I was silent today, but cannot.
Sometimes we accept the hard way. Sometimes we just do not accept at all and are in a constant denial. And some times, we don’t have to accept anything, for we are not in denial.
These days I belong to the first category of those who accepted the hard way, for I am one of those to whom an earthquake does not shatter all, but puts all in place.
I wish I had not been afraid and had not made mistakes and had not found myself lost, but I was and now feel better for accepting it, understanding it and having assumed responsibility for it.
I forgave myself, for there is no way back in time, and there is no way reversing the past but only the road ahead.
For whatever I lost, and whatever made others lose, my heart bleeds and will always bleed for there is no way back in time, and there is no way reversing the past but only the road ahead.
For whatever I am losing, and whatever I make others losing, my heart is in sorrow, for whatever was lost then and whatever is being lost now, I know, cannot be found.
Maybe the only things to be found, are those which were or are lost, for how can something be found without being lost in the first place?
But it is not the irreversability nor the lack of courage to fight but the last kiss was kissed.
I promise to myself never to be scared again and never to make the same mistakes twice, for s/he who is scared is not worth it and s/he who makes the same mistakes twice is a fool.
I promise never to attack myself again, thus never to need to defend myself again, and thus never to deny again.
Promise?
Promise.
p.s. Loving lasts as long as forgetting, for only until one has stopped remembering has also stopped loving.
With love, forever.
