Written in Water

I wasn't, nor wished to be, what happened, happened, you know I'm here, and I, that I'm leaving, you know who you are, and I, who I'm not. For the third time, we'll see desire from afar, you know that time cannot measure feeling, I know that distance can defeat any lance, you know that a beginning is never revealed in silence. I know I lost, you know I tried, you know that neither of us will see the sun again, I know that when flying we can fall, you know there is no fall, that doesn't wound what we could have had. I know someone told me not to look back, you know that memory can only hurt, I know that patience feeds on anxiety, you know that these bodies will never brush again. And though time may gift us once more some moment to share the spaces, the luminous embraces that once fused us will suffer from the absence of themselves and will beg screaming to be reborn inside our pasts; and though those butterflies that walked through our stomachs wish to abandon their nest, they will be swallowed by the words that extinguished the future of these lovers. Though our hearts beat as they do when we're frightened, we will ignore the cry of return that our souls hurl at us, drawn to those walls. Meanwhile, looking into each other's eyes as we never did, we understand in silence that the end of the adventure had so much to do with pity that even the outsiders were wounded. Yesterday it was easy to blend in at the circuses, today the smile is absent, though they flood the spaces with balloons and clowns. You know that what was written, is still read on Saturdays, I know that nothing was carved in stone, but rather, on the contrary, we wrote it in water.