Sección "Muerte"

in Cervantes3 years ago

photo_2022_06_23_11_25_25



Muerte sexta

Te imagine muy diferente al resto,
Te imagine indomable, tierna, perenne…
Te imagine tan hermosa, tan comprendida,
Que quise quedarme…

Con eso que mostrabas…
Con eso que hacías,
Con esos besos y caricias…
Con todo el amor, que en frente de mi dabas.

Y a ese corazón yo lo envidiaba…
Recibía de ti, cada caricia genuina…
Cada lágrima, y cada inseguridad podrida.
Yo amargado, me dolía…

Como no apreciar, adorar, amar, añorar esa manera…
Esa forma de querer, de verse en otros ojos…
¿Cómo no amarte hasta tal sonrojo?
Hasta quedar sin nada de amor, sin nada de brillo.

Y fui en un instante, en unos de mis estribillos, donde dude.
Si me había enamorado de ti, si podía mejorar tu corazón…
Y no seguí dudando, te empecé a querer, a extrañarte de cabeza a pies.
Y mi corazón creció, empezó a escribir, a sentir que había una razón.

Tú, y te imaginó al igual que yo… mía.
Y te imaginó igual que yo… perfecta.
Y te imaginó al igual que yo… poesía.
Pero, no todo es como lo sabias…

Y luego de que te imagine como el amor de mi vida…
Empezaron las mentiras…
¿Obsesión? ¿Dolor? ¿Arrepentimiento? E ¿ira?
Todo se volvió algo que se olvida…

Entonces entendí… que eso que sentías por él…
Esas caricias, esas palabras, esas poesías…
Todo, nada, incluso las mejores cosas, y tú…
Eran mentiras.


sixth death

I imagine you very different from the rest,
I imagined you indomitable, tender, perennial…
I imagined you so beautiful, so understood,
I wanted to stay...

With what you showed...
With what you did
With those kisses and caresses...
With all the love that you gave in front of me.

And I envied that heart...
I received from you, every genuine caress...
Every tear, and every rotten insecurity.
I bitter, it hurt me...

How not to appreciate, adore, love, long for that way...
That way of loving, of seeing yourself in other eyes...
How not to love you to such a blush?
Until left without any love, without any shine.

And I went in an instant, in one of my choruses, where I hesitated.
If I had fallen in love with you, if I could improve your heart...
And I did not continue to doubt, I began to love you, to miss you from head to toe.
And my heart grew, began to write, to feel that there was a reason.

You, and he imagined you just like me… mine.
And he imagined you just like me… perfect.
And he imagined you just like me… poetry.
But, not everything is as you knew it...

And after I imagine you as the love of my life...
The lies began...
Obsession? Pain? Repentance? And go to?
Everything became something that is forgotten...

Then I understood... that what you felt for him...
Those caresses, those words, those poems...
Everything, nothing, even the best things, and you…
They were lies.

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