Grief and Tango
Losing someone you love not to death is the closest pain you can feel besides losing someone you love because they're gone. Killing someone who is alive inside of you is mourning the loss of a million shattered hopes.
Esta noche tengo ganas de buscarlo
Ending a romantic relationship leaves you with bruises and deep cuts. The bruises will go away. The deep cuts have to be treated. If you're lucky enough, those deep cuts will heal quickly. You'll see the scars, though. You'll feel them and for good or for worse they'll be there next time you dare to love again and you'll be you and those other people you loved. Because in a way, they made you who you are in this exact instant. They taught you something. You learned by their example. Or their bad example. The only thing you know for sure now is that you're free to dare being free and on your own right to keep your sanity. To yell if you have to. To question, to demand, to go into rages and to bleed until you can remove the nail of loving that person from your skin. Until you heart expels that uncomfortable object that's been making you question all your choices and your judgment.
De borrar lo que ha pasado y perdornalo
And even if the tango song in the background tells you that you want to see him. You want to forget what has happened and go after him. You won't. Because you know that that only means more bruises and more deep cuts. It means that you will hope again for a few minutes and you'll build bridges where there's no shore or lake or water. You'll be in the desert soon after. Like a drug addict who sees himself alone and broke after he has had his high for the day.
So tonight you'll listen to music and cry and ask yourself if he was the one. He, the man you trusted not to be like the other ones. Who tucked you in bed. Who touched you and you saw the room spinning. The guy that cooked with you and for you. The guy who loved seeing you tipsy and so many other things.
But those flashback will go away and you'll get up, turn the lights off, take a shower and pretend that the pain is gone and the next day you'll do the same, and then the next day again, you will get up and pretend to be busy, pretend that you don't give a shit.
Until one day, your skin is going to show signs of improvement. Discolored. Rough around the edges where it's been hurt and you'll still perhaps get goosebumps and get scared when you think about those moments. The pain is there, but it's a different kind of pain. It's become what we call experience and perhaps then you'll understand and move on.
Esta noche tengo ganas de buscarlo
Ending a romantic relationship leaves you with bruises and deep cuts. The bruises will go away. The deep cuts have to be treated. If you're lucky enough, those deep cuts will heal quickly. You'll see the scars, though. You'll feel them and for good or for worse they'll be there next time you dare to love again and you'll be you and those other people you loved. Because in a way, they made you who you are in this exact instant. They taught you something. You learned by their example. Or their bad example. The only thing you know for sure now is that you're free to dare being free and on your own right to keep your sanity. To yell if you have to. To question, to demand, to go into rages and to bleed until you can remove the nail of loving that person from your skin. Until you heart expels that uncomfortable object that's been making you question all your choices and your judgment.
De borrar lo que ha pasado y perdornalo
And even if the tango song in the background tells you that you want to see him. You want to forget what has happened and go after him. You won't. Because you know that that only means more bruises and more deep cuts. It means that you will hope again for a few minutes and you'll build bridges where there's no shore or lake or water. You'll be in the desert soon after. Like a drug addict who sees himself alone and broke after he has had his high for the day.
So tonight you'll listen to music and cry and ask yourself if he was the one. He, the man you trusted not to be like the other ones. Who tucked you in bed. Who touched you and you saw the room spinning. The guy that cooked with you and for you. The guy who loved seeing you tipsy and so many other things.
But those flashback will go away and you'll get up, turn the lights off, take a shower and pretend that the pain is gone and the next day you'll do the same, and then the next day again, you will get up and pretend to be busy, pretend that you don't give a shit.
Until one day, your skin is going to show signs of improvement. Discolored. Rough around the edges where it's been hurt and you'll still perhaps get goosebumps and get scared when you think about those moments. The pain is there, but it's a different kind of pain. It's become what we call experience and perhaps then you'll understand and move on.
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