jueves, 11 de febrero de 2016

She could have been, but she wasn't

Today I'm sentimental and I want to write about her, when I loot at her and I like her; and when she looks me back and I like her even more. Some times I wonder: How much can I like her?
How many times can I repeat: How not love her if she has all the defects I like?
One day I began to know her and definetly I wanted to know her more.
I don't know if she will ever read this and if it's the the right time to say it, well, it's never the right time and I ask: When is a good time? Perhaps it is while walking through the downtown? When crossing an avenue? While being on a lift? Strolling along the beach? While drinking  a beer ... when?

Today I blame those social networks that allow me to see her and suddenly any day a picture of her appears on the screen. This suprises me off guard and I have to smile.
I dreamed about her last night and it was so nice to see her in that dress (blue in my dreams) that fits her so well, also her starring, sometimes lost sometimes innocent. I said Hello, greeted her and damn I woke up.
One day I asked myself: What if we had met before?
I take a look again at the pictures (it can't be good) and say: Really! All defects I like, sometimes I think it can't be true.
After a while, when I come back to reality I say to myself: She could have been and wasn't, theres must be a reason.

That "I dont care", that memory one day or evening she left me, that danger she inspires me and yes, the passion that awakens me. The anger I get when I don't see her, the memory that always steals me a smile, or the way she lies to me, the verse that has her name and I never wrote, the confidence she inspires me, that shame caused me looking at her, that comment at the wrong time, the urge to see her, those coincidences which we have lived, that unfinished conversation  from which I learnt a lot, or the invitation you said yes but never we specified, that fuzzy remember who you are, that blank look that captivated me, or is it the way sometimes inadvertently rub our hands? the hidden past that brought you to this uncertain present, those excesses that you love, the opportunity that only you know why it never came, or was my shyness? those five minutes you needed to entangle me, or that sentence that only makes sense to us, the memory that you evoke me, those school hours I spent thinking about you, your indifference, getting to know maybe too late, or our the ways our roads seperate after just meeting, or your indecision, or just the fact that you exist and luckily you crossed my path: 5 minutes, 5 years or maybe already 10!

Doesn't matter what it is (or was) as the title says: "... she wasn't." Something happened (or not) and then all those good intentions are here, hoping that someday your eyes read them.


P.D: I may write this every time I try to translate and keep the scent of the writting: But this was specially hard in spanish makes a lot of sense and in english it just lose a lot, sorry, I made my best but for sure it wasn't enough.

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