To C... (parte 1)

Creo que el arte es el lenguaje que trata expresar la obsesión
de un artista por la belleza.

Este es mi más auténtico intento por encontrar las palabras
para describir esa obsesión.

-Todavía no estoy seguro de la razón por la que comencé a escribirla en inglés-.

1. Midnight dreams around your absence

A painful number of poems,
all over the floor.
An endless number of words... roaming
around your memory.
Ten years, maybe... more... don´t know...
... and still I can´t choose a reason why I can´t stop
    thinking about you.
Why does everything get lost
    between the shadows of your moods
that my mind can´t trace;
in your watery eyes, dragging my will to drown.
The terrifying feeling of knowing something´s already lost,
the misleading fact of being so close... so far from you,
the blues of a teenage fever...
... the stranged sensation
    of watching the death of the child I once was
in a blink of your green eyes;
the untouched memory of a few glances.
Me, undressing you.
You, thinking about someone older than me,
or maybe your father.

A shameful number of songs
That I hope –with a little more faith
    in my luck than in my brightness–
they can speak, in a few hundred of melodies,
what my words can´t.

I put your name to everything I ever owned
like a desperate call you never answered.
Poor thing. So... I try to hurt you then
with an endless number of thoughts... thoughts of lust
roaming around your body,
going into your head, stretching my senses
till I can shake yours...

... You were the impulse of all my fantasies,
you are the moment when my soul breathes,
you are the despair that waits for me,
    patiently, every single night,
even though I try not to think about you...
... I still look for you in every woman I see.
Some cold kindness.
I offer to her, in the most sincerely faked way, everything
you never expected from anyone:
someone who would understand you,
who would embrace you,
a father for your children... the one you never had.
But I can´t help it.
I close my eyes and you´re there
and I need to let these thoughts slip away again,
so I save your memory for another less shallow moment.