I’ll Save That Little Bit For You, Until It Doesn’t Hurt

Excuse me. But it wasn’t you.

You weren’t my inspiration. My today and my tomorrow.

My desire to laugh. My shine. My light.

You weren’t the one who brought out the best in me from the depths of my darkness. It was not you who took me every night to the dark sky, to caress the stars.

And it is that it was not you … or you did not want to be.

And I fall asleep, imagining that starry sky. I fly from my bed away from you, from me, from the memories.

Tomorrow will be another day.

The bed is empty. Too big. Too much space And the saddest thing is that it has always been like this, whether you accompanied me that night or not.

I make an effort and get up not to look at that empty and dark hole.

A smell of coffee invades the kitchen. It smells good, it comforts me.

I try to remember. I don’t even have a clear memory. Images crowd my head at a frantic pace. A kiss on the neck. Rush. I begin to remember …

That you weren’t the one who called me princess in the morning, and you made me smile between all those yawns.

Who will trust me. Who told me forever. I’m with you. Who with his smile will give me two thousand sunrises.

Nor was I the one asking you.

You were never my bet. My desire to challenge myself. My struggle.

Maybe it wasn’t me who wanted to fight …

Excuse me.

I add sugar to the coffee. I do not know why I do it. I usually like it bitter. Maybe today I need a truce. As a kind of gift. Remembering takes a lot of energy. I stir and wait for it not to burn so much.

And I think and close my eyes. I don’t remember heat … I remember cold.

You weren’t the one who made my body and my bed shudder every night. Regardless of the dark circles. Or the dream.

It was not you who on a rainy day pushed me to the street to soak up smells and sensations.

Hate me Insult me. Perhaps it is the most emotional thing that has come out of you during all this time. Something with a volcanic emotional charge. Something that moves that cold heart. You who froze this relationship.

A drink of coffee. Spicy Not so bitter anymore. I taste and remember … taste of nothing. Taste of disappointment, disenchantment, routine.

To walks accompanied by the mere fact of not being alone. To a today with you and tomorrow too. To supervening circumstances, to unknown reasons.

And those are the worst. The reasons we don’t want to hear.

Maelstrom of noise. People, glasses. More people and more drinks. Until the body reaches its limit and we fall asleep without thinking. Without thinking about you and me, not about us.

And it is that accompanied hangovers are less hangovers. Maybe that’s why we put up with so much. Who knows.

There is little coffee left, just a long sip, or two shorter ones. And that’s what it’s all about. Elections after all … and I don’t know what to do with the coffee. I have never known.

Maybe I throw the cup on the ground and it will break into a thousand pieces. Later I’ll pick up the broken pottery and spilled coffee.

Because you were not my joy, my illusion. My favorite corner.

You weren’t my desire to get home and disappear from the world for a few hours by your side.

Excuse me. Choosing has never been my thing. Tomorrow I will have another coffee. And I’ll save that little time for you. Until it hurts.

You keep the memories, because in my head nothing else fits.

Deep down we have always known.

That neither I was, nor were you you.