Falling Stars

Do not appear where I am going to be is a request that you rarely say aloud. Your gaze talks and your lips do not move. Then you send me a message hidden from the world: it should not have happened this way.

But city streets do not even ask us how things should go, they just happen. We are confronted and silent, and the cacophony around us is quieting. A few minutes until we get back into a role again.

We play it strangers to the end, choosing to be one without another, which does not change the fact that we are for each other. So much for each other that we are not fitting, and what we both do not tolerate is to be with someone who looks like ourselves: solid characters who bend only in the thought of combining with oneself.

We choose the hardest because the only thing worse than being one without another is to be together. I know that you hate me for this, and you swear to never give me a single look, to never send me one more letter. I have been irremediable and have not changed.

Then we have to be kind to one another, which costs us a lot. We feel foolish because we are not the only one in these urban legends who crave for each other. They engage in not understandable feelings that deny and will definitely remain one without the other, even if they are one for another.

We are not special. We are as ordinary as all who have failed to preserve something beautiful that has collided with them and did not know how to react.

We grind well in order to move forward and meet each other but to keep cultural distance. Everything is fine, but in the parallel universes of our essence, when memories tremble in our head and music becomes the backdrop of the past, we think what it would be... The doors for hypothetical opportunities in our memory open and an insanity occurs.

What would it be if you caught me and you led me out into the pouring sky, screaming at me what a fool I was and if we could not get things back? Let's pretend we are the time masters and erase everything before we meet each other and after meeting.

Fuck them with all the real love out there that will hug us better, love us better, and we will probably live our lives with them better.

And I will tell you that I was guilty, but the "lovers" phase was not enough for us. We had to try, but because we are for each other we always refuse to go on because it would be cruel if we try and it turns out we are not one for another really. More real than we have expected.

That is why we are breaking apart, passing by quickly after a spark in sight, and we meet thousands of people who will mean more while they are less than what we have meant for each other.

The city keeps a careful storage of these meetings, and our memories of them I believe will support us one day when we are too old, too far away to meet again. Then my nights will be made of falling stars in places where we walk to find ourselves home again. My night will be on the dark roads while your hand is on my thigh, the mountain, your strong hug in the pool, and all the other places where we were real together.

Then you know I will remember you, and I know that you will remember me too.