By: Walter Arma Cáceres
Picture taken in Sevilla, which prompted the essence of this artistic creation.
Every now and then, your melancholic presence still haunts my thoughts. It contaminates my speech and possesses my breath. As if your red still burns my chest, as if your gaze still finds mine.
I still feel your fingers entwining mine. Gravity holds me, even when echoes turn into our memories. I walk to the outside doors, yet your hands still incarcerate my steps.
Treacherous days and nights materialize through this Machiavellian labyrinth. You refused to admit that we were imprisoned in this room with the light we always adored. You could see the dark, but you always denied it.
I try to get along while time keeps passing by. Yet, time reminds us what once was lost should not be found again. I gave you my time, you gave nothing back.
I picture, every now and then, our coming back. I picture how an invisible string tied us to this tragic scene.
How I would travel back in time just to feel you for one last time. How I would insist on your night calls, how I would insist on memorizing your handwriting. How I would oblige myself to keep them alive.
I hope that, somehow, you still visualize me in your dorm room. You still feel my voice in the songs you listen to or in the books you read. I hope that, somehow, you still believe I am part of your essence, even if it has been dematerialized.
I promised an oath to follow you home. You said nothing back. I promised I would never lose you. You said nothing back.
You vanished. Do you remember all of it? Do you remember the night calls and the forbidden kisses? I hope you still do. Every time I try to call you, I do not.
You ran away, and with it, the hope of a new day.
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