Noite polar

Nestes teus olhos árticos que se recusam a me fitar, eu ousaria habitar. Inóspito, silencioso. Discreto, vacilas, mas te calas antes de poder qualquer coisa me confessar. Eu sigo em minha verborragia. Ébria, derramo besteiras nessa mesa de jantar. Mas como é que não te importas? Sempre tão sério, sóbrio quando em tua terceira dose de whisky. Vejo que abres um pequeno sorriso, inclusive no olhar. Com a ponta dos dedos, acaricia o meu queixo brevemente. Olho-te de maneira cortante: Queres que eu me cale, por acaso? Tu sorris maior, queres continuar a me ouvir. Eu floresço frente a tal gesto. Professo qualquer estupidez que me venha à mente. Parece ser nosso código. Parece um perfeito entendimento – ainda que seja apenas de momento, por acaso. De repente, te vejo espontâneo. Espontâneo como jamais foste. Abraçamo-nos em silêncio. Perguntas onde quero ir. Não sei dizer, a lugar nenhum. Abracemo-nos em silêncio, nesse escuro escarlate, com a música de fundo fading out ao som de tua respiração. Como é que me acalmas deste tanto? Me acalenta neste imperdoável inverno, eu suplico silenciosamente, com desejo condensado na minha respiração entrecortada. Não quero um grande amor, quero um grande amigo. Quero que sufoques minha solidão com estes braços firmes que agora repousam sobre meus ombros. Tão só quando comecei a partilhar esse sono infindável contigo é que tornou-se ele tranquilo. Tuas mãos em meus cabelos e meu sorriso contra o travesseiro. Tua sugestão silenciosa, minha preguiça esparramada com naturalidade em teu colchão. Ecoam os sinos das Grandes Esperanças, minha música favorita como despertador – the grass was greener, I know you like to think so when you talk about your lovely Brazil -, ovos fritos e café. Teu péssimo e encantador sotaque de inglês. Tuas tentativas falhas de falar português. Não quero um grande amor, quero um lar. Abrigo no exílio. Acolhe-me em teus braços enquanto podemos, não fujas. Te peço, em silêncio, no escuro. Antes de tudo és meu amigo. Permaneça!, ah, enquanto podes. Permaneça para que pereças em meus braços, na madrugada, no amanhecer. E me despertas. Para uma vida que já estava esquecida. Desesperançada. Para que possa encontrar confiança novamente em teus braços: renascida. Plácida. Imensamente agradecida. Em calor que tanto me faz falta. Retido em meus seios, nas pontas de meus dedos gélidos, na casca de meus lábios secos. E que palpita em meu coração. No que também opina o teu coração, frente ao estetoscópio de meu ouvido repousado no teu peito.

Schmetterling

Por falta de palavras,
não te escrevo um poema.
Suspiro, beijo teus lábios,
repouso em teus ombros.

Paro e penso

Banal,
poderia ser qualquer uma
suspirando
beijando teus lábios
e repousando em teus ombros
quaisqueres suspiros,
lábios e ombros.

Mas é que os seus
Encaixam
Acolhem
Fazem sentido.

Não te dou belas palavras,
por agora.
Mas te dou um singelo sorriso,
que não posso evitar ao suspirar,
beijar teus lábios
e repousar em teus ombros.

Mas se insisto e te escrevo tal poema
Singelo e banal
E muito sincero
É que mereces um poema, ao menos
Por teus beijos que abrem meus sorrisos
Teus ombros que acolhem meus pensamentos pesados
Teus olhos que me arrancam suspiros.

"I like him", she thought as she held him very tightly. The metro was shaking briskly and she was trying to avoid falling down. With her face against his chest, she couldn't see his face. Peaceful, she closed her eyes. He could be anyone else in the world. She would possibly forget his face when they stopped seeing each other and lost touch. "Maybe it's not about him. Maybe I just like having something to hold onto". She looked up, he smiled. Very simply, automatically responding to her quick glance. He kissed her forhead softly and said nothing. What was he seeking in her?, she wondered. Did he feel as comfortable, peaceful and calm? She closed her eyes and hoped that he did. The train stopped at her station and he got out in order to walk her home. "I don't want to say goodbye", she realized suddenly - and it was the only certainty that she had. Yet the deadline for their ending seemed to be what held them together so closely. Could she put that into words? She didn't want to, she didn't want the separation to become real and the distance to become unsurmountable. She wanted to keep holding on.

Imaginary unanswered letter #1

Hey you,
Last night was weird. I said a lot of things and I don't know why I've said them, or why they slipped from my mouth so easily. I have the hability of saying a lot of things that I shouldn't or that maybe will get people hurt, without noticing it. Specially when I'm drunk. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I would hate it if I did. You'll probably have a hard time believing this (especially because you don't think I'm shy at all), but I used to be this really closed person. I had difficulty saying things to my friends, my parents, my brother, the guys I went out. I wasn't able to connect fully, neither to open up. I guess this is why I have this list of crazy nonsensical relationships that only made me weirder when it comes to men. Even when someone was trying to know how I really felt and cared about it, I was unable to speak. Literally. I got tongue-tied. I never told anyone I've been in love with that I was in love. Not using the words. I guess I just switched places completely. Now I'm my evil twin. The world made a 360 degrees turn. I have to say everything now. I have to try it all, because I don't want to regret it anymore. I used to be so scared of hurting others and hurting myself - and I guess this was why I couldn't speak. But then I realised that words are not that important after all. They have weigh only when they're stuck in my throat. Once they get out, they're imaterial. Fugacious. They quickly lose their meaning. Also, they don't only have the meaning you implied, they depend on other people too, people that are hearing are always gonna interpret it a little differently.
This may sound silly, but alcohol changed me in an unbelievable way. Suddenly I could talk to people, I had the guts to do everything - even things I never knew I wanted to do, or was to afraid to admit it. That's why I open up so much, in such absurd ways that I can't even believe I did that. And this for me is not stupid at all. It's amazing. If you know the feeling, then you'll understand. I'll try to describe it to you. All my life everything was always stuck inside of me, all my feelings locked up, along with my own wishes, my own will. And it boiled up for years and years. Until I felt things were so intense - I was in love, I was having this huge life crisis because of employment, studies, etc - that I cried. For hours. In the shoulder of someone I adored so much but couldn't tell. And he said to me "You can't keep everything to yourself, see what happens?". And I decided I wouldn't be like that anymore. I realised that trying not to hurt people and not to hurt myself ended up causing more damage in the end.
I'm sorry that I'm not really, truly, deeply sorry. I can't apologize for who I became. Maybe this self-discovery bulshit doesn't concern you nor the people that surround me. But it's for them to decide whether they stick around or leave. It's freedom - for both sides. I hope you stick around. I understand if you won't. I will be sad. Maybe I'll have second thoughts, thinking that I screwed up. I always torture myself intensely because it seems to me that I'm the one screwing up all the time. Because I'm unstable. Because I want everything at the same time - and I want nothing. Also, I wanted to want a lot of things. I'm really spoiled, 'cause I hardly ever do things I don't want. And I'm always pretty sure about what I want, even though I'm aware it's usually not the best choice.
We've come to a turning point. This is where I tell you that I actually hate myself for being like this. I'm not this strong self-confident girl that is all the time sure of what she's doing. I'm insecure, really. I blame myself all the time. The chains I broke made me drift so far apart from who I was that I don't even recognize myself anymore. Now I'm floating so high up that sometimes it's hard to find something that connects me to life. Being a good person used to mean everything to me: I was a good daughter, a good friend, a good student. I always put other people and their well being ahead of me. That made me feel so good about myself. That entitled me to judge other people, to feel superior, to be the betterman. I can't do this anymore. I can't smother my own will like that. I think it makes people go crazy, it raises blood pressure, it gives people aneurisms, stress conditions - only terrible things. I think maybe you could be one of those people. Don't let this happen to you. Free yourself. Don't say to me that we shouldn't have a good thing together because it's risky. Because you'd feel guilty that we're not in love. Don't limit love like that, like it should be a concept tied up to a dictionary. Love is everything and everywhere, and people should practice it more often. It should have no boundaries, no boarders. Even when I go back to the south hemisphere to watch the sun go down in a warm horizon, while you're already seeing the moon in a dark and cold night; when we don't see each other anymore, when we don't even speak to each other, I will have given you my love somehow. And I'll carry yours with me. I'll be altered by it, I'll have learned and growned because of you. So let's not limit ourselves. Even if we could end up hating each other, even if I hate myself for something I did to you. I promise it will be worth it. Everything is, as long as we're free. Let's find balance together.
Come over tonight. I want to see you. I want to tell you these things face to face,
Me.

Friofome

I needed change. I'm always like this, with this constant need to get away from my own life. I can't express myself fully, as I wished I could, in english. But I don't want my language back. It's also a burden, and I don't want to be stuck. Won't I ever find solid ground in this world?

I look at my friends' pictures. I can't say I don't miss them, and I can't say I do. Now they're in the past, now they're only pictures, those days look golden.

Saudades.
I won't ever understand this feeling, or why I'm able to feel this - and not feel it at the same time. I am hungry and I am cold all the time. But I like this: it's a new state of mind. As if I'm growing,bigger and bigger while the world's getting smaller. (Sometimes I'm afraid I won't fit anywhere else anymore). What feels so good it's that sometimes it seems I could be better - I could become someone like Buddha, or Dostoievski. I could go on hungerstrike, I could write something like "Notes from the underground" and no longer be this needy self-obsessive girl.

No comboio, divagar

Página em branco
Reduto do meu desalento
Lento, lento, vaga o comboio
Quase a flutuar

O tédio em tons pastéis
A noite sem luar
Não me trazem o consolo
Que estou a procurar

Remo, remo, velejando suavemente
Contra as ondas do mar
O embate entre peso e leveza
Segue a me assombrar

A sinfonia que me embala
Já não sei cantarolar
É canto imperfeito dos amantes
Náufragos balbuciantes a nadar

Nada, nada
Conseguem alcançar
(O mar não tem cabelos a agarrar)
É que querem todos - e tudo
Abraçar. Contudo sem veemência
Sem realmente amar
A inconstância de querer tudo
Querer, querer?
Mas não conseguir se apegar


(De tão apegados a esse desapego autoimposto)

Aos céus

Antes eu não te conhecia. O mundo se abria em possibilidades. Andava pela rua distraidamente a enumerar afazeres, de cabeça quente por causa do calor e de preocupações inúteis. Havia uma leveza e um vazio, minhas mãos soltas pendendo inúteis, tocando o nada - o ninguém. Até que preencheram-se de ti, de tua solidez que foi o meu complemento. Abrupto, suave, finito. Tua presença me acompanha, imprimida sob a pele. (Me pergunto onde andarás). Mãos grandes, lábios quentes, princípio de amor. Adeus. Minhas mãos abertas te entregam novamente aos céus. Voas para além do horizonte, fugaz, foge de mim. Mas antes fode, fode, fode. Então foge. Encadeia-se assim, novamente, meu pequeno amor, meu início de apego, carinho findo. Foder e acabar-se. Agarro-me a ti de olhos cerrados. Te posso sentir, mas não te vejo. Chamas meu nome docemente, e "Tchau".
Disseste que esperavas que não me esqueceste de ti. Agora é tu que te esqueces de mim.
E tu estás em meu apreço, meu apego.

Te chamo uma vez mais. Ainda olho pra trás. Ainda olho pra trás. Percebo, minhas mãos pendem ao vento.
Se é que sequer te conheci. Agora misturado com o gosto e o rosto de outros amantes, agora que teu riso não me alcança mais o ouvido, que teus ouvidos não comportam mais meus gemidos. Agora que foges e não mais fodo contigo.