Broken mirrors

It’s not the same for everybody. Whatever might trigger something inside you does not necessarily trigger something inside them.

You see, when you pressed your cheek so naturally against mine, because the place was loud and we had to talk close to each other, that meant for me. Maybe for you it was something you do when you’re attracted to somebody but for me it was such an intimate and infinite emotion. Your lips are moving and I feel the motion of your face against my cheek. And when you finish talking you squeeze my arm a bit. Sometimes, when I ask you something you just pull me closer with a steady hand. And my body flows toward you.

At some point my face is looking straight when you talk to me and we’re not cheek to cheek anymore, your face is on my face, so close to my lips, not even talking next to my ear anymore… and I would have it like that forever. You talking against my face. You and your cheek against mine, that hand around my waist. And when we’re not next to each other our eyes meet swiftly and there’s THAT look. That damn look and damn you for understanding it too.

And sometimes it’s like you’re analyzing me. Or undressing me. I guess the latter… I hope the latter. And when our lips first touched it was fire. We couldn’t even keep them together, we couldn’t even lock the kiss but we keep on trying and you just wreck my brain functions. On and on and on. I don’t even know how I’m kissing you but it’s so natural, so effortlessly. I can barely see your face, but I want to see it, so we take brief moments just to look at each other and understand what’s happenning. And it’s happening. I guess my face reads exactly what yours does.

We have to stop. We have to go back. It’s hard to go back and pretend I didn’t kiss the soul out of you. You look, I look. It’s not swift anymore, it’s intentional. And I read on your soft lips “you are in trouble” and a devilish spark plays in your eyes. Oh mister, trouble it is!

I just feel like grabbing your face and bring it close to mine and just stare at you for a moment before I kiss you. Movies in my head. Movies in yours. Pretty sure the same plot. Maybe different scene order.

And I try to find topics so I can bring your face next to mine. And you keep on answering with your face smashed in mine.

“I’ll take good care of you”… and just like that I have no knees, I have no connection to the world outside. Just like that, I am that piece of exaggerated romantic shit that I’ve always been and you got me with silly words like a pigeon trap. There’s nothing I love more than alluring gestures, intuitive hand touching, body language and word innuendos, because my brain is so alert when it comes to these things. It’s awaken by them even though it’s slowly sinking in imbecility.

God, somebody save me. God, have mercy on my soul. My mind has sinned. Still does.

And then you obviously think, because of the great talent we have of ruining things, “does he act like this with everybody”, “it’s like a game he knows too well”, “he doesn’t mean any of it”, etc. And then I’m down. The weight of these words crush me. They just cancel every single thing I said before and now there’s no way back… Can’t ignore them anymore. Stupid thoughts. Stupid, stupid thoughts.

You’re dancing behind me and I’m slowly grinding against your body. It’s intense and it helps me that I can’t see your face…because I can picture it. And I know why you’re moving away. I turn and I see your face. I was right. You’re biting your lip. Unconsciously I’m biting mine.

And then again you’re thinking “what is it different for him now” “how do I make it different”. I have to be the best, because I always do, because it’s always like this. This is what it is. And I am. I don’t always have the chance to…

And there was no chance with you. Who knows when I’ll see you again. There are galaxies between us and this mind of my own that will ruin all of this. That will question to death the authenticity of all these moments. Especially that you’ll not be around to prove me wrong. And then… then, what’s the point?

I wonder what did YOU feel? I wonder if you acknowledge my face moving when we were talking cheek to cheek. I wonder if you felt that fire, the electricity of our fingers barely touching.

Why did you do it then? Is it a routine?

How can I ever be happy like this. How can I stop ruining moments with thoughts. I ask myself.. and the only answer lays in that vanity we have, the one that whispers “he worships you” and makes you feel so powerful. And it stays. The thoughts stay and the vanity stays too. You’ll have that set of questions running on and on in your mind and then vanity will come and say “enough! I felt it, it happened, no need to doubt it!”

And you feel better about it, and about yourself. Yeah, it’s true, it happened. There it is, the light at the end of your f##king tunnel. And for a while you are back on track. It’s so twisted and so hard to describe this feeling, this insecurity that keeps on digging, like a cavity, into your self-esteem, into your mind, into your heart. Fewer thoughts you produce, the happier you are. Are these thoughts a result of your traumas? Let’s not f##king go there because I will never finish this. I have a few people to thank for that for eternity, I believe.

Anyway you’re such a dear memory to me. You will be that kind of memory that makes my heart warm at times. What kind of memory will it be for you?

It’s all love and evening writing shenanigans. Peace!

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Read the footnotes

“The things she’s seen. The places she’s been. The people she’s met. She’s filthy rich. There’s nothing material you can give that will satisfy her more than moments. Give her joy and give her your time and she’ll never want anything else. She’s what you see, she’s just like that. Existing without any tricks. Ah there’s one trick. She has too much to give.

She likes long rides and black coffee. She likes unplanned things and late nights. She likes to talk and dance. She is warm and brave. She’s a brave girl and she learns fast. She learns from everything and everybody. She loves her time alone but she never refuses good company. If she makes mistakes she’s sorry. If she goes too far she’ll drag you with her.

She has a vicious side, it’s true but she turns it into something natural. She’ll tell you to go for it if you want it. That’s her answer to everything.

What does she want? Haha, many things but she settles for whatever you like.

She can piss you of with her presence sometimes, or with exuberant good mood. But her heart is in the right place. She can be a pain in the ass but you’ll get used to it.

She likes to lay and do nothing for a long time and sometimes she finds no peace in anything. She’s moody but everything turns into a good vibe most of the times. Some people try to make her strong and even though she is grateful to those people, she’s not afraid of her soft side. She’ll show you, even if you don’t ask for it. Stubborn as fuck sometimes and she’ll go under your skin to get things done. Sneaky sometimes, but always with good humor.

She’s loyal to people and if you’ve ever been good to her she’ll never turn against you. Even if you hurt her. She’ll defend what she cares about. She’ll always find good in everything. She looks up to some people. Especially people who showed her a different dimension of things. Mentors, stronger personalities or just different characters. She’ll always be fond of these people.

She’s silly sometimes and makes stupid mistakes and even though she’s ashamed to admit them, give her some time. She’ll come back and she’ll joke about them because she doesn’t want to take mistakes seriously.

Always give her time to come to her senses. She can understand everything. She has an excuse for everybody, not only for herself. She walks straight and laughs loud, she exaggerates and she burns but this is who she is. And if you don’t want to change don’t try to change her either.

She’s an asset when she’s motivated and she hates routine. She want to get involved and to have a word to say, but she’ll obey if required. She can be disciplined. She needs to be disciplined sometimes (ambiguous).

She is the life of the party and in the middle of things. It might be tiring sometimes. But sometimes she’s lazy as fuck. She can easily fall into a comfort zone. You need to be somebody very special to get her out of her bed after a long day when all she wants is to rest.

She gets excited easily but she’ll forget about it fast if it’s not something that she really wants. She can put a lot of effort for the greater good but she needs recognition. She has after all an ego and a fetish for herself. Just like everybody else. (Yes she can twist it up just like that).

Everything depends on either she wants it or not. You’ll see the difference in the results. You’ll know when she’s motivated and when she did it because she had to. If she did you wrong she’ll fix it, she’ll try at least. Give her the chance, she never meant it in the first place.

She’ll forgive everything and you’ll hear the weirdest excuses for people who don’t even deserve a glass of water. But she’ll not defend somebody who’s mean on purpose, or at least without a reason.

She’ll fill people’s heads with romance and bullshit and she’s this silly believer that the world is not on the verge of destruction. At least, not while she’s alive.

She came a long way and she has a long way to go. You’re not the only one who thinks there’s a greater purpose for their existence. When she wishes and when she hopes for others she does it with all her heart. If only she could do this for herself.

She’ll give you a fair battle because she knows there are no shortcuts or cheats. Even though patience is not her strongest asset. But at least you can shake hands with her at the end. It was a good game, no doubt about it. It will be remembered. She will be remembered.

Give her the benefit of doubt as she gives it to others. She deserves it.

She will never really give up, so don’t push her to do it. Some people know she’ll never be herself again around them if they pull the wrong string. Not that she’ll not forgive. She will. But it will never be the same again because she can’t pretend.

Give her herself and that’s all you need. Ah! and food.”

It’s all love and late night writing shenanigans. Peace!

Monologues for two

“I wasn’t born next to the sea but I love it. I hate cold. I strongly hate it. It depresses me, it hurts me. Living next to the sea it’s what makes me happy. The sea is in the air, you don’t need to feel it under your feet. You don’t need to see it everyday. It’s just there. Vast and blue and green and mesmerizing.

I could’ve lived in Greece, the sea there is amazing. I definitely could’ve lived there. But it’s too quiet for me. I need that busy city background sound. I need its restlessness. I need to be in the middle of the rush.”

**

“Probably that’s why you’re scared. That I’m too friendly, too warm, that I am outgoing and alive. I am not who you want me to be, I will not stay home, you think, you can’t tame me, you can’t control me. That’s the fear. Without you knowing how much I need to be at home, how much I crave watching a movie on the sofa, in your arms and then kissing your lips good night.

I don’t need you to build me a prison that I will never stay in, I will build my own and it’s high security. I am not even trying to escape. There is nothing outside that can make me curious. Freedom, that kind of freedom, is not what I crave anymore.

People believe so strongly that they need to dominate each other instead of simply living together. Compromise, yes, compromise. I will never stop somebody I love from doing what they love. It’s not fair. I don’t want to change them. I want them as they are, with their rawness, with their wars, with their baggage. Who doesn’t have it? But they need to give me the same in return. Because once you give somebody their freedom you enslave them forever. Because there’s nothing better than being yourself next to the person you love. You will never run away.

But I can’t be myself anymore. I’m overthinking, I’m afraid. I’m thinking about how my words sound… more than ever. I’m thinking about what you want in a person and I feel it’s not somebody like me. I feel that everything I do is wrong and silly. I feel that I will never be enough.

And I wonder how. Everybody likes me exactly for who I am, only you want me to be someone else. Without thinking that maybe you are the one who needs to look at his own flaws, at his own twisted self.

You should feed on my energy and my strength instead of suppress it because I can lift you to unknown levels. I can empower and better you until you forget every single bad moment in your existence. This is what I do. I lift people up.

You won’t ever let me though. Even though you care. You won’t ever let me though. I have no other purpose than to give happiness. There is nothing that somebody owns that I want for myself. You can’t give me anything because I wish for nothing. If that was the case I would be somewhere else in life.

I want you for who you are.

I’m like the summer maybe. People enjoy it but at some point they find it too hot, they seek the shade. But winter only makes you remember summer, and wish it was back”

**

She said all this looking at her in the mirror, imagining him in front of her. He will never listen to this, she knows. Because he refuses conversations. Maybe he’s not even worthy of hearing this. Oh he is of course he is, but he’ll not know how to fully understand it and appreciate it. He’ll twist it, he’ll make it sound ordinary without understanding the place it comes from.

The few moments they actually talked were battles of wits. Who can dominate more. Even though she listened. She listened carefully. She heard him. And she stopped talking.

These monologues occasionally occur in her mind and as much as she will like to let them out she knows they’ll hit a wall. That’s the worst part of everything. No gate, no window not a single crack to reach behind that wall…

And it’s so surprising. He seems so flexible, so down to earth and easy going. So living in this century type of guy, only to discover that he is a fossil, a relic, God knows how it got lost here. And he learned how to dust himself off to look like a precious stone. Not all that glitters is gold though, to put it this way.

Anyway, the conversation is over. Her mind brought this out. That she will hit such a thick wall if she’ll ever try to voice these thoughts. This is the moment when she’ll give up. She hates it and regrets it but for now that’s what it is.


It’s all love and late night writing shenanigans. Peace!

“A Street Car Named Desire”

It’s late at night. She doesn’t know how time has passed. It just passed. It happens to her so often to stay awake til late at night. She likes the night. She is more creative, more inspired at night. It’s something about the night that makes her alive. Sometimes she has these energy fits late at night and she’s ready to do things but, unfortunately, night does not offer the same advantages as daylight.

Tonight is one of those nights. Is late and sleep doesn’t really want to visit. Her phone rings. It’s… him. How in the living hell! It’s been a while since that fight and nothing predicted that he’ll ever even come closer to her again. Yet, he’s ringing. So late at night. Not him, not what she’s used to.

She answers, heart beating fast.

“Hi” she hears.

“Hi” she replies, maybe a bit faster than she wanted to.

“Good you’re awake, I had a dream about you and it felt so real and now I need to see you!” he says in a breath.

It must’ve been difficult for him to say all that. He’s not like this and not over a dream. She wonders what the dream was about. She has an idea. It happened to her too but she did not dare to wake him up with that. He would’ve said it’s nonsense and that she should go to sleep.

“What?! You mean now? You..”

“Yes, now” he cuts her off. “Now! Take a taxi, take anything and come here. I’m waiting for you” he continues.

“But I’m like 60 km away from you. I need at least an hour” she softly, doubtfully replies.

“Don’t worry I’ll take care of everything. I’m waiting for you. Are you coming?” he impatiently questions.

“I’ll let you know when I leave home” she says.

“… I’ll be waiting, call me when you reach”.

She can feel the excitement in his voice. Her heart is beating faster than before. She looks around the room. She needs to get dressed, she needs to take a shower, she needs to be fast but she feels like jumping with joy. She feels like screaming.

There are things that at some point she’ll never do. If somebody doesn’t give her a reason to continue or to fight for, she’ll never try. She will wait, hoping a miracle will happen, but she will gradually stop trying to approach somebody who is dishonest with their intentions. Somebody who doesn’t know what they want.

She’ll probably die to see somebody but she’ll never say a word anymore because she already did more than enough before. She fears rejection more than anything. She dreads it.

She takes a shower, she looks at herself in the mirror. Her face changed, not tired anymore and in her eyes there’s a childish light sparkling. She missed him. Obviously. All that effort of trying not to think about him, all that power she built not to call him… all gone now.

She’s down in the street waiting for a taxi. An hour drive and it’s already 3 o’clock in the morning.  She finds one and she’s on her way. It’s going to be such a long hour.


He’s down, in front his building. He sees the taxi and he comes to meet her. She gets out and looks at him. Sleepy face, pillow hair, pajama on. Still sexy though. He smiles and hugs her. Autumn leaves on the street…


Again the title has nothing to do with the movie. Some things just pop in my mind for no reason and they fit some texts.

It’s all love and late night writing shenanigans. Peace!

 

 

“The General in His Labyrinth”

She’s rubbing cream on her face looking at herself in the mirror. She rubs it gently on her cheekbones, going up to her forehead and down again on her nose, chin, sliding slowly down her neck. She’s tired.

She looks at herself in the mirror and can also see him in bed. Looking at her. Eyes dark, burning. He’s waiting but he’s not impatient. Always a control freak.

She starts rubbing lotion on her body and he watches every move…


He had a party earlier. Friends gathered together. And he was so… different. All night he looked at her, he joked, he had this light in his eyes. That light vanished now that everybody is gone and he is trapped in his own mind again.

It was a perfect night. He wouldn’t do anything without involving her. They laughed a lot. She knows him and he, surprisingly, found out how much she knows of him. She knows who he is, what his actions and reactions are, she knows what he likes, she knows how to make him laugh. He asked her to dance, he’s proud she’s there and they dance and everybody looks. Because everybody feels the goddamn chemistry between them.

She remembers how, while she was seated on the sofa, he was standing next to her talking to a friend and his hand reached out and gently stroked her hair. That moment right there, froze in her mind. He has beautiful hands, manly, with beautiful nails and he always makes sure they look good. She loves this in a man. Nice hands. She always looks at this. And he does have them. She loves his hands.

If she’ll say a joke that’ll crack him up he’ll go round and repeat the joke. He looks happy and carefree. She saw him like this a few times. She saw him free. Then he’ll go back to being lost, to being amnesic… all oblivion now.

He was this free when they first went out to a club. He went to the bar to order drinks and she was on the dance floor waiting for him to come back. She kept on looking at him as he was waiting at the bar. His handsome profile, his suit… he looks damn good in a suit. He finally comes back and she makes a few steps to meet him. They’re face to face, looking at each other. She’s happy as a kid and he feels it. His hand grabs her waist pulling her closer and then they kiss. It’s perfect. Then their foreheads are united and they just savour that moment after kissing. Maybe they’re drunk, but it feels good.

They dance all night and in some moments he just keeps her close, and they kiss and dance like nobody’s around. She looks at him “I don’t know how you can make me feel so good” she says. “Really?!” he says and then he buries his face in her hair kissing her neck and her knees feel weak. She bites her lip and she prays the night will never end.

She remembers all this moments more than anything. These small treasures. But he’s such a strong-headed man. He has the self-control of an army man, the strength of a bull. He’s so damn stubborn. And insecure. All at the same time. He’s cocaine to her brain.

These are just moments, and she wonders if they’re even real now. They felt real though. A simple stroke of hair, a kiss, walking and holding his arm. The moments when they were laughing… just the two of them.

Ashes now… Fiction.


She goes and lays next to him on the bed. Being his prey again…


DISCLAIMER: The title is the name of a book of one of my favourites writers, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. It is just a reference and I found it a good match for my text. Nothing to do with the original. Magic realism, has everything to do with me though.

It’s all love and late night writing shenanigans. Peace!

Mutual concession – Chapter 1

I used to write a lot. Then I stopped because I felt I am getting too dark and depressed. I started again on a more positive note and somehow what I write is not about revealing anymore, but about understanding.

Above all this, what I always wanted to do, was to write a book. But man, I can’t write a proper dialogue. While you find elaborate dialogues in books, mine sound like “potato, tomato”.

Below there’s a draft I wrote, maybe 2 years ago, an attempt to 50 Shades of Gabriela :)))


“Make me remember it. Nothing too big or too romantic but just make a memory out of it. It will help me pass some bad times…”


He hugs her from behind, all full of lather and she feels his muscular body moulding against hers.

She was taking a shower and while shampooing her hair, lost in thoughts, she didn’t even notice him in the bathroom. He then opened the shower cabin door and started washing his body right next to her. His hands came to reach her shoulders and pulled her out of her thoughts. His embrace was firm but tender. He wasn’t showing much of his feelings; actually at all, but he had moments when his actions were so loud that words wouldn’t be as clear.

His hands went up her neckline and then slowly down her arms. He then measured her waist and slowly but surely found the way down to her navel. He’s not a patient man and…

***

She dries her hair pensively with a towel while he’s on the sofa watching tv. She sees him in the mirror. Yeah, in time everything will be fine. He will be fine…

She sits on the sofa next to him and he doesn’t even bother to move his gigantic body. He knows she’ll find a place next to him. She’ll squeeze somewhere next to his chest or under his lazy arm. She looks at him and he throws a quick glance back at her with some sort of smile in his eyes.

“What?” he says, trying to seem insecure, pretending he’s shy as a schoolgirl when somebody stares a bit longer. As if he doesn’t know he’s a handsome man… And all the women out there daydreaming every time they see him and yet he’s there on the sofa with her.


“So what do you think?” she asks. He looks at her and smiles again. “Why don’t you sleep. It’s late and you have to wake up early” he says.

That’s all she will get for now. She knows. Later on, when he’ll be done browsing the internet or watching whatever tv channel he’ll slowly come to bed next to her, hugging her under the cover. That hug means he’s fine where he is. He can’t really show affection.

When she’ll wake up, snoozing the alarm a thousand times, he’ll open his eyes and with a grumpy face he’ll mumble something. He’ll try to fall back asleep but eventually he’ll wake up, take his phone and start scrolling. Sometimes he’ll watch her, a bit undercover, how she gets dresses and how she moves around the place getting ready for work.


“Good night” she says and she can’t decide if she should give him a kiss or not. She tries to make a move and he pretends that nothing happened. She aims for the lips but settles for the cheek. He turns. He’s not hostile. He gives her a childish kiss. He smiles with his eyes again.

She goes to bed and she thinks about this for a while. Her heart is heavy somehow, but she knows he agreed to it. He’ll come to bed later…