unicidades

He washes my clothes and cleans my kitchen. He asks the dog to obey. He sets rules and watches my steps closely. He smiles at me when I look at him. He folds the laundry and puts away the dishes. He jokes around. He holds me at night and makes plans. And yet, I still wonder. 

A few years ago, I met a man who lived in a castle. His castle was clean and perfect. The level of organization in his castle was extra-ordinary. Every single corner in the castle was spotless. His furniture, minimal. His clothes were organized by color. His household supplies, abundant. And yet it was a sad castle. No life on the walls, no traces of people, no music. The castle seemed so empty. My visits to his castle made me uncomfortable. I was always afraid I was going to break something. There wasn't much to break, but I tiptoed around his castle. I felt like I was a spot on his marbled life. Not only I tiptoed, but I was always under the impression he wanted me to leave. It seemed like spending time together was not something that came naturally to him. So, I left. A few years later, he came back. He left the castle and followed me to tell me he would change anything to be with me. That he had made mistakes. He said he wanted to marry me. It's all blurry now. I don&

Sometimes you realize that your own embrace is enough; even when  others judge you. Sometimes you realize that what you have inside is so intense that it hurts but that hurt can only take you places. Sometimes people forgive you for the wrong reasons and you have to learn how to forgive them. And the best thing you can do for you and for them is to move on. 

Our lives like a film. Photographs piling up at the table's corner. Walking down the street, I find out our paths should have never crossed. It is slowly sinking in. You left traces. I am connecting the dots here and there.  And there are so many dots left. Buenos Aires hiding behind us like an unwanted guest. It was you, me and Buenos Aires. And the space separating us all. We walked back and forth so many times just to find empty nests everywhere.  I tried to explain to you time and time again, I am not meant for this. I am not meant for drops of love. Our lives like a film. Beautiful photography. And yet, so many hiatuses.  And yet the photos fading, lost in the background of misery.  I question your ability to generate love. I wonder how could you have ever demanded my love? If in return, all I got was the cold bathroom floor, stained, ruthless.  How could you have ever demanded a second, a third chance? Were not the chances I gave you, the thousand fi