Assim é o amor!

Pois o dia até estava quente, com nuvens azuis no céu, e uma brisa suave e sufocante. A noite foi escaldante! Ver-te, sentir-te, beijar-te, abraçar-te, conhecer-te pela primeira vez!!!
Parece longinquo esse dia de verão quase morte, esse dia que anunciava muito mais as cores fortes de Outono que o escaldate sol de Verão. Mas por muito longinquo que seja tenho em mim a memória desse dia, e do dia que se seguiu, e do outro e do outro: AMO-TE!!! E esse é o melhor sonho, um sonho do qual não se acorda, apenas se morre, um sonho que se vive cada segundo o mais intensamente possivel... És e serás sempre o meus sonho, a minha vida, o meu todo e o meu mais que tudo. És a culpa da minha felicidade, és a mãe dos meus sonhos e serás a mãe dos nossos filhos. Lado a lado seremos pais, seremos avós, e um dia, quem sabe, seremos velhos, sorrindo, de mão dada, como se o tempo nunca tivesse passado...

love can be beautiful and tough, as hard as love can get: with all the fights and all the reconciliations and make up sex and love and kisses...
I can never tell you how much I love you 'till someone creates a language that can reflects all I feel for you!!!
I will love you, always did ad always did... and one day you'll feel it too...
Until that day comes... I will just love you!!!

A drawing long time ago

A long time ago, so long ago I can't really remember how old was I back then, you gave me something. From the beauty of your mind and the perfection of your hands a form of art was born. You drew little Asterix whining, arms laced on top of his belly. You told me it reminded you of me when I whine. You told me I should think of it next time something or someone upsets me and I should smile, just think of it and smile.
For months in a row, maybe years, who knows, I kept growing and arguing and whining and complaining... but only for a few seconds. Then, after a few seconds, minutes, that drawing of yours would come into my mind, my memory would not betray me, and I could even remember the smile on your face, the bright in your eyes when I opened the envelope with your drawing inside.
For years to follow I lost parts of the child in me, lost the freedom of the heart, the freedom of the ones who love without the stupidity of grownups, and the memory of that drawing disappeared from my mind, but most of all from my life. I'd miserably pass by the days, miserably argue and let myself consume by guilt or reason and burn myself anyway.
But today, maybe because the sun was shining blue with beautifully carved clouds in the horizon... maybe one of the clouds looked like Asterix and the memory came back.
Now, now I hope that every time an argument grays my days, little whiner come by my mind and will make me smile!

Platonic passions or the fear or being really in love

There's a certain "je ne sais quois" in the emptiness of heart, in the fulfillment of platonic feelings and no strings holding us back. It is so much easier when one can love freely without thinking too much, without the constant constrictions of cultural boundaries and behavioral rules. Love, open hearted and free minded is just such a gift and at the same time such a curse to be trapped in a vicious cycle of platonic passions and surreal dreams of perfection and happiness and impossible lives.
Some days it is all about sunshines and bright light in someone's eyes; a beautiful smile at the cafeteria, a sweet aroma on the skin of a beautiful girl coming in the elevator... Some day it's all about perfection: no commitment, no expectations, no restrains.
Other days I actually get a chance to speak, am obliged to speak, interact. Those are the days when the perfection is destroyed, and the dreams start approaching reality, scaring the shit out of me. Because one thing is to dream about a perfect love with a perfect stranger, love at first sight. Another thing is to actually start realizing that that person you saw in the elevator is friend of a friend and in 5 minutes will be sitting at your table, throwing her hand at you with a name and "pleasure to meet you!". The impossible dream is now one step closer to reality and sometimes reality can be very scary.
So between good and bad days, between perfection and fear of reality, sometimes a true, unexpected love comes along, kicking you to outer space, uncertain of reality and dreams. And that's when you forget it all, dig head first and just hope for the best!

Inspiration

There are good days, bad days, lots of ugly days. And that is life to you, and me, and everyone I am pleased to know and share a little bit more than just existence and survival.

But there days, days a bit like today when it's not too warm or too cold, the sky is blue with clouds here and there and the sun just shines. An in these days you come shining and smiling and I can't help but feel lucky and blessed and inspired. And inspired as I am and feel I just write, endless words of joy, sometimes sadness (because life is made of both), but most important of all I write again. I let my finger move as freely as my mind, I dream with my fingertips and my ears and my whole body and soul. I dream dreams so big that they barely fit inside of me, and I write, put them in pen and paper, in virtual pen and paper, so they can grow. And dreams are like children, we put the effort and pleasure to create them, we put blood sweat and tears to keep them alive and well... we put all we are and have (sometimes even what we don't have) to make them grow, to see them make people smile, and for as much as we want them close and warm, soon they gain a life of their own, sometimes they gain wings and fly away, sometimes they become strangers and fade away. But nonetheless I dream, every time as if it was the first, dream big and crazy. And when you inspire me, the way you just did today... then I dream more and more and more, I overdose in dreams and hopes and smiles...
And these are the days when living is Living and smiling is Smiling, and life is so worth living...

Hereby I declare

It's not what you are but who you are
And sooner or later reality strikes back
I can't live with you
But can't call life
To this surviving of mine without you by my side

Like chaos has order
Our love has our hate
But sometimes in the cloudy days
The fog disturbs our thinking
Rationality becomes no more than a word
And reality a living hell

But like after every storm
The sun will always dare to shine
The sky washes the gray away
Shining blue, lightning your smile

And a day is not a day
If your smile doesn't shine
And the night is just time
When your warmth is away

So I dare to say and feel
So many things, so beautiful
But that's the only way to live
Love, hate and tears

Tears

I once said tears are never wasted, tear are never dropped in vain. Am I changing my mind? Of course not.
If you tear it's because it hurts, and if it hurts then it's because inside of you was a true, beautiful feeling. And that feeling is often so rare that when you do feel it you should do everything you can to make it last forever. And in a way it does last forever. Even if now and then you tear there are always memories of those beautiful feelings you can't forget and those are the moments that, when the bitterness goes away, stay stuck to your mind and will make you smile.
One day, one day the sun will rise from dawn and a smile will be in your face... one day...

Those same old songs

I wander the streets with music in my ears. I listen to songs and I just can't, can't stop the memories from blooming. Can't stop remembering, when maybe I should forget. Should I? Should I forget the smile and the bright eyes, and the bright in your eyes? I could I, how can one forget the glance of perfection with the superficiality of any other random glance?

But there is always something, there is always something triggering the memories, something sparking the feelings and then is just the same old story... but a story I just can't stop living...
A song, a verse, an image, a ray of light, anything helps to make me live, anything helps to keep me alive, anything for a dream...
Those same old songs bring back those same old feelings... even new songs can bring back old feelings... but are the feelings that old?

I read... or so I say...

I read! I read and devour every single word as a gift to existence. Every new word changes who I am, makes me a better person, teaches me how I can be who I am in a different language.
And every word read sparks, stuns, changes who I am forever. Because every word written has a purpose, a goal, a mean and an end.
Sometimes I'm simply lost, fruit of my own imagination and ignorance.
Sometimes I am myself, with all the small and big defects, but with so many more qualities that I believe I am unique, special, misunderstood...
I read books, and newspapers, and magazines, and words of scientifically correct english, that sometimes is not english at all... English and english... So little difference as the one between being me and Me!
Here and there the world sparks. Here and there the world collapses.
Me? I'm just me. Between hearth-quakes and hurricanes. Between the smoothness of the see and storms of interminable waves. Between the never-ending happiness and the faithful sadness...
I read! I like to read!
And if 70% of your body is watter, 90% of mine is words...

Prima Donna

And there I was, standing, listening... Nothing was perfect or real, nothing was ever good enough or even close. The food is too spicy, maybe too salty. But then again it doesn't have enough spices; i guess it should a bit warmer. And the complaints kept going and going, the weather, the sun, the rain, the music, the tv... blablabla... My brain ordered my ears to shut and let my eyes take charge of all the sensory input. Behind, just behind that person complaining was a blue sky. A blue sky where often birds fly sharply and sing. They sing such beautiful melodies that I can't hear because my ears shut off. Shadows cut off the light that the sun gifts the day. People walking in the sidewalk, walking to work, coming from work. I can't really tell anymore. The days are so long. With sunlight from way too early to oh! so late.
Slowly my ears come back to reality and damn me, the complaints kept going and going!
"Prima Donna!!!!"
The sound of my own voice woke me up. I opened my eyes and saw myself. Looking in the mirror I could now see, the Prima Donna was no one else but me...

Butterflies

My mind wondered, lost between the wind and the falling snow. Shy rays of sunlight hurt my eyes and I close them. I see you, I can clearly see you right there in front of me. I felt as if I could touch you if only I could move my arms. I soon realized I could only stare. Stare at your smile shining face, eyes... you were smiling again with your whole face as only you know how. Behind you the sun light covered you in such a beautiful aura, a peaceful existence. In my mind I craved for something more.. A word!

Your smile grew bigger. As if in slow motion you licked your lips softly and simply said: "Butterflies!"

You could hear me, you were inside of my head and you could hear my thoughts.

An action: "Butterflies in my stomach!" - you said as your cheeks grew pink...

And although I could not move I could feel, and I clearly felt the warmth of that hand on my face, the thumb of a soft skinned hand rubbing gently my recently shaved face...

And then cold, a very cold hand touching my forearm:"Are you ok?"

By instinct I opened my eyes. This tall bearded man was staring at me. His cold right hand holding my left arm. As I opened my eyes his face drew a small smile. "It's cold out here to be sleeping at this time of the day. I thought something had happened to you." "No, I'm fine! Just resting my eyes."

John, or Jack, was the name in the tag on his chest.

I guess it was just a dream. I tried to close my eyes again but your face vanished. I could still almost feel your aroma. One word still on my mind... And a strange feeling on my stomach...

The gift of delusion

The sky is gray and the air cold. It's just another winter day.

I wish the warmth of your skin was here, now, pressed against my skin. But it isn't. Just the cold air surrounding me, just the cruelty and inanimate presence of bed sheets and flannel pajamas.

Your aroma still holds to my pillows, your smile holds to my memory, a smile of fulfillment that is so vague now, so absent.

It hurts to be! It hurts to smile, to shine, to embrace each dream with the innocence of a child, with a will of steel, with the purity of virgin hearts. The scars do not let me forget, the scars and the cravings...

I wish a little bit more, always more, never to reach perfection, never to be satisfied, never to take anything for granted, never to stop, stop loving, stop dreaming, stop trying.
I would hold you in my arms again and make the same mistakes, hold you in my arms and press my lips against yours longly, truly, deeply. Kiss you over and over again for a glimpse of that smile, a glimpse of that bight shiny eyes that make cloudy, gray, cold days into warm symphonies of blooming flowers on a spring afternoon, with a sweet breeze blowing between the little space between our fused bodies.
I wish I was you and you were me, just to see if I can be, be without hurting.
I dream: delusion, delirium, dementia. In the end of all things: love, passion, desire!

When your body starts quiting

One day you wake up and look yourself in the mirror: a gray hair here, less hair there, a few wrinkles all over. You grab the first piece of ID you can and check for birth date. You're right - you are getting older!

No more endless nights of alcohol and party and friends, no more crazy nights of studying and paper writing: your body quits too early!

Then all in a sudden you do feel old, all your life changes, you let your life change. Think about how comfortable it feels to stay home in the warmth of central heating and a nice cup of freshly brewed coffee or recently steeped tea. Think about how much a kiss means because they are more and more rare, think about what true love really is because soon that's all you will be able to hold on to... And then again maybe not! Maybe true love isn't all you truly need... Maybe true love doesn't really exist.. So many maybes and so few answers...
But the truth is that when your body starts quiting it's time to really pay attention to the clock ticking in your wrist, time to open your eyes and truly live!!!
Every second is precious!

The fading Muse

I love! And I loved so many times so many different people: tall, short, skinny, chubby, beautiful and "drop-dead" gorgeous. But over and over again I always fall inlove with the muse, the inspiration, the admiration! I feel attracted by the woman, get to know the person and fall in love with the muse. Yes, the muse, the product of my imagination, a perfect, immaculate conception of a human being that never existed.

Well, either that or I do fall in love with real people and they just change in a way that I no longer recognize them. Of course people change, we all do... but why every woman I always loved has to change in a way that turns them unrecognizable???
And I'm always full of hope, full of expectations that it's just a phase, just a temporary state of insanity and coldness, I always hope one day the love will be back, the person will be the muse and life will be full of happiness and smiles...
Am I a fool? Is it time for me to change?
No, I'm a poet, and I will always have my muses, and if all the women I've met refused to be such... I guess I'll just keep trying. Keep searching for the Muse until I find it... or until time runs out!

Always something in the way

Isn't it amazing how there is always something getting in the way, something that becomes a little bit more of a priority, something that comes lost in time and space and takes all the time and space, all we need to be and keep not being.
Why can't people see what's right in front of them and blindly weaken to these absurd priorities that mean nothing for tomorrow, nothing for the day after and so very little for today, but still, they sometimes prevent tomorrow to happen in a full shinning sun, and the day after from being real at all.
Should reality kill, overcome the dreams or should the dreams always be the ones to take the front line?
Why can't people see clearly the path to happiness when reality is just a mess? Why can't people make time for what is important, or for what can make tomorrow the special day and keep insisting in postponing, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow....
And as time goes by the sun shines less, the moon becomes shier and hides, behind the clouds... and tomorrow, tomorrow's shinning blue sky is no more than a beautiful memory, a long long gone dream hiding in some dark corner of our memories.

Pointing the finger right at me!

There is and will always be a very thin line between paradise and living hell, between dreams and reality, to me!

I will always be dreaming too fast (or faster than you) or too high(or higher than you). So naturally I'm always the first one to fall, the one that falls faster, harder.
I'm always giving all I have and what I should never give up, but the feelings burn me so truly that I always give what I have, what I don't have and what I should never give up! And I change. I change and suffer, this pain strikes so deep I swear I can barely breathe, barely love. And you? You keep going with your life, smiling, feeling fantastic, not even caring to know how I am, how I'm feeling, not even recognizing what I gave up for you, all I gave you.
One day (and that day, I feel it coming soon) I will say enough! One day all we had will be no more than a vain memory, sometimes a cruel dream. One day all will be gone, lost, impossible to repair or to restart. On that day I will know it was all your fault but I will be so fed up I won't even bother to point the finger right at you. Maybe because on that day you will no longer exist, in my life!

Theory of Chaos

In the beginning there was nothing! Good will, maybe desire, maybe the wish of something more... and Bang!!!! I was born and then it was decided: chaos will rule my existence!
Never, maybe until lately, maybe until now I realized such an important factor. Everything tends to go towards chaos, the ultimate disorder of the world, the last stop on our way to emptiness (or is it emptiness the first step to chaos?). My life was always the ultimate journey to the absolute and unresolved collapse and I never realized what I was doing until now, now that the end is closer!
But the theory goes on and on about the balance between chaos and its counterpart, its counterweight, but form here and looking back... there were moments of peace and happiness... but chaos always fascinated me, always made me give one more step than I really needed... one step closer to the end.
But the end can just mean another Bang! another beginning, the arrival of the blue skies and sunshines.
I guess my life doesn't challenge the laws of the universe: chaos, collapse and re-start!
One more step and I will jump, one more step and I will be born again... or will I remain the same?

Glass Castles (what I'm best at)

I'm reading a book! I go through the pages endlessly, sometimes wishing for time to stop so I can read until my eyes hurt and "the end" appears written in the pages.

In the beginning I did quite get it. What the hell are glass castles?
Now... as the pages left on my right hand begin to scarce... now I know that the book could very well be called dreams or unfinished life, or something like that.
But while I have a few more pages left, it made me think about all the glass castles in my life...
One day I was told I could be whatever I wanted to, be good at whatever I choose. Some say: do only what you are best at! Well, I guess I'm really good at dreaming... outstanding even... and I do pretty well at living too...
But I wish I didn't have so many glass castles in my life, so many unfinished stories, so many sand written promises and plans...
But then again... Dreaming is what I do best and without all my silly and impossible dreams I would have never felt the sweetness of a stolen kiss, the uniqueness of love, the realization of a dream becoming true!

Why?

Why are you so beautiful?
No wonder my heart is falling
For you
Day after day
Even more

Why are you so wonderful?
No wonder my mind craves
And is willing to pay
A penny for your thoughts
Even a million... kisses!

Why are you so far?
No wonder my eyes shut
Just to see you
And my dreams become you!

Why are you, you?
No wonder I have
A hard time
Being me
Without you!

Illusions

We all have our dreams, our goals, but sometimes those dreams are nothing but an illusion! They never had a chance to become true, maybe they were never dreams at all, simple mirages: we only see what we want to!
And we live that illusion as if it was reality, we feel and cry and tear and live and die... until one day the sun will shine brighter and a real dream comes along the sun beams...
Wait for the day when the sun will shine just for you and your dream will become true, or your illusion, a dream...