Como una daga!

By Cymarel
Me enamoro de ti en el silencio.
Cuando todos mis pensamientos sobre el amor han desaparecido y se han ido a la cama,
escucho tus palabras como un eco y tus historias rompen la barrera del tiempo,
barriendo el polvo que contamina mi alma.
Tu eres el sonido en la distancia, la memoria de la belleza y la redención.
Aún si hoy ignoras lo que habita en mi mente, aún si queda para siempre callado,
ahí estarás tu siempre, la verdad más sincera,
la que no quiere ser, ni la que espera,
la que es, simplemente y escribe sobre mi historia su paso clavando de esperanza su ser en mi, como una daga.
 

The photographer was a chemist

By Cymarel
The photographer was a chemist.
I was 16 and still a virgin.
Life was simple, black and white,
and no room was big enough.
Small enough.

I have grown.
With one perpetual truth,
my thoughts make a really good movie but my life is just plain reality.
I’ve lived. I’ve left behind.
I keep making up theories that define the laws of my life, and I’m a lousy judge.
I keep letting myself walk free, feeling guilty.
Every time more immune to those contagious feelings of happiness and love.
And life goes on like this text, and you wonder if you should stop writing.

If only we could live again.
It would be like writing a different story, and then going back to fix the commas and the syntax problems.
The photographer would have gone digital and I would have lost my virginity but my heart would be intact.
Every time.
Eager to be broken again, and maybe one day, not broken,
just satisfied.