Lady Fantasy

 

I'm afraid to look at you. I have already told you. Not to you! I explained everything to myself properly, speaking directly only to the deluded girl inside me, that the woman I am today has already understood and will continue. And this child that I am, looks at me sweet and confused, who awaits miracles, who pulls rabbits out of the hat and turns my arms into doves of peace. A bowl of cherries transformed into kisses, into your sweet and unique kisses! I'm afraid of the shiver of losing you, even when I don't have you. Because I always have you in me. And I'm afraid, after all, that even that could rob me, when you told me, if you told me, if you had to tell me, you know Cristina, no, you don't know why I didn't tell you, you know I forgot you, that when I look at you, I don't see the same thing, I see another one, I see another woman, I don't see the same one anymore! And the fear of those phrases uttered by your mouth blinds me and it is this terror that can do more than my legs, that my eternal longing, it can do more than anything, because I have lost you physically. I can't allow even what I keep in my memories to be stolen from me! How sad it would be, worse than a poor man's hat! I haven't hugged you for so long, every day I hug you and kiss you in my dreams with my eyes open! That's how it is, but the we are gone, there is the Virgo part of me, meticulous making room for rigor. But to lose the immaculate image of your open mouth, while I hold you by the forearm and beg you, play my music, play my funeral march, when all I wanted to say to you was hug me, desire burned my legs, my chest, you see, I needed ground, dirt and to return to a moment of pain, so that you would not regret it,  so that you might realize it was me, There in front of you, and I to make sure that it was you who smiled at me, who with a hoarse and low voice asked me: what do you want me to touch? Are you sure that's what you want? You did not hear my eyes, nor the flame that burned me, nor the tumult of the voice that was difficult to control and yet went out in flames: yes, the funeral march touches me, said my mouth, the stupid of my mouth, instead of whispering to you the kiss that I begged you for in another afterwards. Give me one, just one, give me one or two! And I look at the creature that I am, who is not more than five years old and who looks at me smiling, as if asking for an ice cream, who asks me, instead of the ice cream, instead of the krispie or the wooden leg, asks for a kiss from the beloved, asks for a flower, a poem, a hug from yours,  And I hug her little one, I hug her and it's my arms that squeeze me and stop me from sobbing, the girl who keeps the look of a lost dog, love is loose inside of us, From me, from her, between us, between me and her, begging for the beloved, that love is on the loose and does not lose its address, in the anonymity of another embrace, that begs for rest and leans back tired, from sighing so much. Know? I'm afraid to look at you. I imagine you a frog, with ugly eyes, with a huge closed mouth. And I promise the girl that miracles happen, but not this time, maybe in another life, you know, girl, you know? Miracles happen, my dear, they happen in other modalities, but not in love, not in this one, it didn't have to be anymore. And while I was having a coffee with a friend, I understood that the girl inside me went up to hear everything, as soon as she heard your name. We both heard the message. There is no misunderstanding at all. There's the follow your life, oh girl, get on with your life, do the best you know, forget it! Forget! And I smile and she smiles, I beg her, smile, and sing her the song, Ours, along the way, I know you heard the message, I know you heard both, that note spoken in the third person singular. First it's strange, then it's ingrained, no need for bruises, no more scrutinizing pain, no longer postponing, wake up, go, so many things to think about and give yourself back to the past, dead, buried, go, record everything, because you'll need to listen to it again and again, and if necessary, If you really need to, record it on paper, publish it, so there's no mistake! And I said to him: I assure you that I will not die, I will not cry, I have already told you! No, I swear I won't die, I swear you won't die, I swear we cry today, but not tomorrow! And as I sing and write to you, I say to you softly: tomorrow, I promise, we will rest from this love, we will forget that it is a letter without a sender, that it is an impossible letter, that it is what it has to be, to erase, to follow, to face, to continue, please, sing to me, I beg this time, sing to me I beg you this time, sing to me so that you don't hear us cry! Already in the safety of the safe haven, like a punch, the conversation, like the end of the play, the very end, and without happy endings, I retort to her, my god, how everything grew, from nothing, from a hope, from a look, from a call, from a snack and from nothing else, how longing and pain and longing and love grew! How do we fatten affection, how do we get here? And the girl in her godé dress, with butterflies with open wings, cleans me inside, hugs me, takes care of me, miracles happen in other modalities, you will see, that we should remember this and smile or else? Or smile, or dance, forget, write, travel, run, grow, but the hot asphalt ground melts and grows as the car goes on the highway, in the shadow of us, not a cloud, Nor the courage to go on in other places, in other latitudes, sing to me now, play the funeral march, yes, call me somber, yes, don't let me miss what can't be! And dance, girl, dance, as long as you listen to the music, dance! And you know, my love, you are eternal, like the music I keep listening to. You are the ground that rises from my feet; The leagues of distance between us are, after all, the distance of safety, which you cannot erase and that, if I want, a tongue of the sea, an insua, a port and an anchor, saving the child from reality, I just have to climb to the head, sit on the Vilar dam leaning against the esplanade, On this bank, Perlimpimpim, magic happens, you never disappear, you keep running like a river, there are no rocks or obstacles, you slide free and I run into your arms and you always hold this girl who doesn't have the faintest idea of what it means to forget! It's more of a preamble, you think, but on my part there will always be a noblesse oblige. Which is to say, I'm sorry for singing to you! And so, portrayed of this office of loving you, it goes on without a stamp, without blue mail, without express and without desires, which is as if to say, my love, my great love...