MY SPILLED CUP OF TEA.

Llegué tarde. Sí. Llegué tarde y me quedé con la peor parte. El día que llamaron a repartir, el sueño me entretuvo en uno de nuestros incoherentes coloquios. Llegué desarmada, esperando recibir allí mi nueva sombra, y aun con la respiración desbocada, escuché expectante mi sentencia: En primer lugar, de mis progenitores, adquirí el miedo altivo y la gula austera. Por suerte o por desgracia, la paciencia les acompañaba. De sus antecesores, heredé el agobio egoísta y la pasión convencional. De sus hermanas, la soberbia anarquista, y de sus hermanos la avaricia sibarita. No eramos muchas a repartir, aunque tampoco teníamos muchos a los que cobrar. Estos bienes me fueron entregados paulatinamente, a medida que llegaban, yo intentaba darles forma, o al menos un poco de gracia, pero mis intentos por malearlos fueron en vano, y se resistieron, como cualquier raíz estrecha hasta el más vasto de los suelos. El día que llamaron a repartir llegué tarde, y me dejaron con lo peor de ca...

The street was almost empty, I walked through the market street , delighting every smell, every scent that the spices kept. Suddenly, four notes of trumpets broke the order and my serenity. The royal court walked down the avenue , traders left their shops and the crowd pushed me to the retinue.   A large entourage of soldiers preceded the courtship and behind , as baroque as always, the royal carriage .   At the arrival  we had to kneel , to display a bow of belonging, however , for a moment , I hesitated and refused to belong to anyone.   "You must prostrate " told me a familiar voice. However , I kept to my guns and remained intact , my face not even showed a single emotion . Then the royal carriage stopped in front of me . I must be differentiated from the crowd , since I only saw before me a pile of bowed heads .   I struggled between run or to fa...

Here I am again, in my cave, listening to stories or memories that are hidden behind the crackling flames. The night begins to invade everything, fog falls, covering the last of the corners. The chairs arranged on the table, instead of surrounding the fireplace. The flame, in all its splendor, illuminating the room, instead of being consumed by your stories, those I enjoyed listening to, even though they were not true. My favorite childhood game, the forbidden game, now I dare not to approach them. This time I'm alone, I have nothing to hide myself , the flames are reflected in me instead of its amber shield. Fireproof flames devour, like time, the best of your memories, of the few that I keep, which I save. Face to face, supporting how the fire crossed us, while the drowned windows merged with the wall. Any hour of the morning was enough to hear a few punches at my door. We spun the needles in my open and your close of eyes. I try to rekindle the fire, but...

Under a radiant day, a white room, and a fairly comfortable temperature, it starts to rain. If I close my eyes I can transport myself to the darkest den, illuminated with neon lights, a stage where represent the worst of my works to an anxious audience. Unfortunately, everything has an expiration date. A silent, your silence, darkening the room, it clouds, my most rabid fear is that it starts to rain. Words, your words, flying fleeting hitting on me, leaving me immobile on the ground. You lift me up to push me, I can not wait to cross the threshold. The black sheep, chaos personified, lost in my head and found no solution. A wink, a lighter, it was enough to discourage me. Choppy breaths, tight lips, carving a road to nowhere. A bit about the size of a mountain. And there we are, face to face, you most duels I bullets, catching them with your teeth. Your biggest weakness will be your greatest strength. Your biggest storm, downpours are merely passengers, and I almost feel ...

Walking down the streets, a dry road, lost in my thoughts, not a single person. Only him, ruffling my hair, as usual, and slowing my march. I just want to get home. Faster than the wind, more slowly than light. You could give me a warm breeze, but not warm me to my bones. Not heard but contempt of your name, dishonoring the name of the wind to the nth. However, the sun... when shone always pleased everyone. I guarded thee, I embrace myself into my red coat to keep your shakes. I was looking for tricks, alleys, walls ... anything to avoid you, however you long appeared. But who are we going to cheat? I've always preferred the gray days. An autumn so variable, he had not gone away, still looking at me, giving me memories from afar. It was me the one sitting in the window,looking how you shaked them all, and me,safeguard at home, laughed about all these doomed, unconscious I would go out someday. So cynical, so fast, you runned around the street, under skirts and dresses, ...

Winter comes, with him, vague memories. Mist into nothingness, cold, icy rock where we dance whole nights on. Butterflies in my stomach, shortness of breath, your hands, as cold as frost, your back, the place where I shelter on. It was so cold, so warm at once. Playing, laughing, as if we were a couple of kids. As if the world did not matter, as if all problems remain under our feet. Elusives looks, we could not let anyone our secret know. Replicating confidant bells at midnight, the guardian of my door, Don't know if  you will wait on the pathway again, In the middle of the woods you will take me by the hand, and we'll get lost in the dark. Nights listening to the crackle of flames, and a pair of chords lighting the shades. We were aimlessly, retracing our steps. Playing worns. Until the first ended the game.

It seems I've encountered myself. My mental disorder has doubled and, for a change, shuffled and get lost in a sea of ​​nonsense. However, here I am, standing firmly, without allowing your wind push me. Without allowing your instability collapse my chaos. And so I do, by chance and improvisation, as usual. Time ago I got used to writing in draft, I force myself  not to think so as not to drown in a sea of ​​doubt and disappointment. It's easier. I do not seek you, I do not care if you get lost and I do not find you, I do not care if I stumble again, I do not care if I do not stumble. So many battles have left me bruises, maybe I'm just so tired of war, struggling in vain, it's time to let things happen.