Manchas

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Image: Lucy Waits for the Sun, by Amanda Blake

As imagens do deserto ainda estão vivas em mim. Cada esquadro daquela viagem em que haviam tantas promessas não ditas. Ver-te novamente tinha uma carga de passado tão forte. A primeira vez que estivemos juntos havia calor e umidade nas ruas urbanas de um bairro tão movimentado. A noite era qualquer coisa menos calma. E eu te esperei com a pouca calma ansiosa de quem espera por uma surpresa. Navegaste um mundo novo em táxi e tinhas tantos braços. Tanta mύsica. Hay rencor de herida abierta. 

O amarelo dos teus olhos. 
Tento cicatrizar a ferida deixada pelo teu amor. Quero fechar esta história, tirar meu coração desse espaço onde dançam lágrimas de saudade. 

Fui tua numa esquina na Costa da Luz, a dois passos do Estreito de Gibraltar. 
Prepara a banheira. Quero molhar o vestido. Manchar de sangue a espuma. Verter sonhos nos sais de fel que encontro no silêncio da casa vazia. 
Vejo que a estrada se fecha mais adiante. Embora eu ainda espere pelo sol. 

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