Should I?

 Over the last months, my feelings were made of a new substance

I hated and loved you with the same intensity

I wanted you and at the same time I didn't want to 

Over the last months, you were a big question in my mind

And I'd love to say I have an answer now, but I don't

I discovered that's possible to live

even to have joy and feel happy

when you feel that something really important is missing

I don't know who you are anymore

I don't know your thoughts

I don't remember so well many details of us

But I do remember the color of your eyes

And the way you smiled at me

I remember you have a mole on your nape

and I remember the texture of your hands on mine

Honestly, I feel so dumb

Having so much of you in me yet. 

And I feel so sad

Losing so many memories.

Should I hold on that or should I just let go?

As the time goes by, I'm getting used to this emptiness

and fearing what it means.

I fear having hope and fear not having.

I fear missing you so deeply and fear not missing.

I am so afraid of us. Are we something that is never gonna work?

Or are we just a good match that found each other at the wrong time and who made wrong choices?

Would you change anything if you could?

Or Am I the only one thinking about this?

Are you going to be just a memory for my entire life or will we have another opportunity to make it right?

I miss you so much, lindo. So much. 

And I don't even know exactly what I miss.

But I don't wanna be in the same place again. I don't wanna feel as a person not valued anymore.

I don't wanna be so dependent of you. I don't wanna feel so disposable.

Should I tell you all that? Or should I just kept all to myself and swallow together with my feelings?

We were not perfect together, there were so many things to be better

but we were not that bad, you know? We had so many good moments. 

I just don't know if they are enough.

none

 I hate and I love you.

I hate and I love you.

I hate you sou madly that sometimes I forget how I love you.

I hate loving you.

I hate thinking of you.

I hate and I love you.

I hate that you don't love me.

I hate you going away so easily.

I hate you and I love you.

I hate you and I love you.

Confessions

 That's very strange don't have you in my life anymore.

The days go by and I cannot share with you my thoughts, I don't know what are you thinking, how has your life been. Are you alright? 

I ask myself if you feel the same.

If you think of me.

It starts to seem so strange still feel connected with you somehow even though I don't know if I still know you. Two months and it still hurts quite a bit. 

I mean, I cannot force you to love me. And I definitely don't think I have to force someone to be loved. I told you I deserve more, but... I always wanted the more to come from you. Because It was always you who I loved.

I cannot help myself of asking if I am in your thoughts and if you miss me as I miss you. Sometimes I'm just hit with the reality that probably not. You didn't say a word to me, you never told me to stay. You never showed me that I was important to you.

That's strange how it works. Loving and not being loved back. But I did and I still do. And I just hope and pray that you find me inside of you.

disconnected words

 Do you think of me?

Do you regret anything you did?

It's not a movie, you know

our lives. 

I don't have how to know you love if you don't tell me

I don't have how to know if you don't show me

If I cared less it would be so much easier

But I need to stand by myself

And what you were giving to me was not enough

Besides loving you so, or exactly because I loved you that way

It wasn't enough, babe.

You are stuck being a child

You don't want to grow up and be a man

But I'm a woman. I cannot pretend not care

I deserve being loved and I deserved more

I tried to make you give me all that

and it's just wrong

I would never tried that

because if it's not given freely it's not love

But I believed in us so hard

and I don't even know in what believe anymore

All my certain dropped and vanished

It's your turn, if you want to, to believed for both of us

Lost and soft

 Among all the stories they told us

Among all the plan we made for us

What is in front of us now?

What is just in front of us?

I've cried all my tears out

I've danced the whole dance and more

kept spinning by myself

Hoping it's going to start playing again

What's in front of us now?

I dreamt about your eyes

and all your kisses in my face and my head

I can see the smile you had while looking at me when I cooked

I wanted it all, you know? I wanted it all.

But you didn't love me enough. You didn't love me.

It was so comfortable for you, it was so easy

Because I "planted" all my girders and "built" my roots

I drew all the lines to find you

I gave it all and you let me walk away without hesitation

What is in front of us now?

I don't wanna come back to that

besides keep holding onto you so tight

I don't wanna be in thar place again

besides wanting you so badly

I don't even know anymore what to expect

because I'm afraid you and that place are attached as hell

You cannot fight for me or maybe you don't want

doesn't make any difference now. 

It's all the same.

Our 23 kids running are fading away

Our past is vanishing.

Our future was just a mirage, my mirage.

What is in front for us now?

Broken-hearted three times in a row

 Babe,

You broke my heart. Deeply.

And you did it while I was 

living one of the most vulnerable moments of my entire life.

You broke my heart for not loving me back

You broke my heart for not caring.

You broke my heart for being such a selfish,

thinking only and only about you

that you couldn't take a moment

just a moment

just a little second of your self centred life

to look at me and see how deeply I needed you to be my support.

I told you many times

that I was there to be your partner

to be with you

to help you

to support you

to not let you down

But you were not able to do the same to me

Babe, you broke my heart

and I almost broke together with it.

I saw my pieces on the mirror, on the floor, on my inner

I saw the scars and the fragilities

I saw it. 

Babe you broke my heart

almost my soul.

But I'll not let me down.

I'll be here for me. With me.

I'll support me and help me.

I'll go through it.

I'll face my weaknesses and recover my pieces

Rebuild myself, rebuild my hope.

And somehow, stop caring about you,

Stop loving you.

And then, have my heart fresh and new.

C.R.F

 

Uma cicatriz ainda é uma cicatriz, não importa se foi feita por um cirurgião ou por um machucado bobo, não importa quanto tempo ela existe, não importa muita coisa.

Ela continua sendo uma cicatriz.

Existe um caminho feito dentro de mim onde o caminhão passou por cima da minha ingênua ilusão sobre você. O caminhão foi pesado e abriu sulcos na terra, deixou a marca dos pneus, saiu levantando terra. O que resta agora além de tentar aterrar e consertar os estragos?

A cicatriz ficou.

Há marcas de você na minha memória. Há lembranças da cor dos seus olhos, da forma que você ri, de como você andava meio sem jeito antes de ir comprar café. Há marcas de como você posicionava a sua mão no meu pescoço e como eu sentia um arrepio na espinha. Há o seu cheiro e o seu calor. Há marcas suas aqui.

Não é que eu as queira. Eu não quero. E ainda assim não consigo abrir mão.

Do que achei que fôssemos, não restou nada. Levantou o pequeno pé com raiz e tudo.  Como um vendaval – repentino, assustador e incontrolável.

Você se fez um estranho com a mesma rapidez que se fez relevante.

Quem é você, afinal? Aquele que me deixava deitar em seu peito e me abrigar no seu carinho ou o que parou de se importar no intervalo de algumas horas? Quem é você? O que você sente, o que você pensa, como você enxerga a mim quando – e se – olha para trás?

Não assimilo a pessoa com quem eu tinha tanto em comum – com quem era fácil sorrir e estar – com esse estranho que me olha de volta quando vejo sua foto.

Me sinto tão boba agora por ter acredito tanto em você e tanto no que achei que existia que não fui capaz de me impedir de fechar os olhos. Tudo que você fez foram só formas para me enganar ou houve alguma verdade naqueles momentos? Foi calculado ou foi verdadeiro?

Há marcas suas aqui que eu não consigo apagar. Eu as ignoro. Ignoro até que seja fácil, vou ignorar até que elas não pareçam nada além de uma cicatriz branca, antiga, já esquecida. Mas uma cicatriz ainda é uma cicatriz.

Você percebe que quando foi embora, me tirou não só os beijos e a ilusão, mas me tirou também um amigo? E eu agora não se dizer se alguma coisa foi real. Do que valeu tudo que éramos compatíveis, tudo que parecíamos confluir? Você desafinou todas as notas quando parou de tocar.

A música realmente tocava enquanto eu estava dançando ou eu estava escutando só o que você queria me fazer escutar?

Há marcas de você aqui, marcas dos seus dedos, dos seus beijos, dos seus discos, da sua playlist, dos seus óculos de intelectual.

Há marcas minhas em você? Há alguma cicatriz, há algum arrependimento em você sobre sua decisão? Ou foi fácil ir embora do mesmo jeito que foi fácil chegar?

Tudo me lembra você. O que eu odeio. Odeio que você tenha peso ainda em qualquer coisa que seja. Mas tudo que quero odiar por sua causa me lembra você. E tudo que eu amava em você, me faz distante dos outros. 

Há marcas de você aqui. Marcas tão sutis que eu me distraio até me deparar com uma delas, me lembrando do que foi. E me lembrando de que talvez nunca tenha sido.

Me responde, alguma coisa foi real?