Assumptions put me in the victim role,
but it was a lack of good judgment and understanding
that labeled me "the victim".
I am not the victim, I am more the responsible party,
who pushed the first domino piece
and now see a 6 years structure crumbled to the floor.
Laying on the grass,
feeling the warm sun caressing your skin,
calling me to caress you too,
to feel the warmth, it is just perfect.
And then a bee tried to sting me
and I freaked out because of childhood traumas,
so you calmed me down,
took the bee gently and showed me that I have nothing to fear
it was just perfect.
You opened up your genuine vulnerability,
allowing me to do the same,
and still, feel safe,
and it was just perfect.
With my constant stressful on the go state of mind,
you came to caress my thoughts to relax me,
it was just perfect,
like a five minutes meditation
on a busy morning,
in the middle of a construction site
during a thunderstorm.
Compliments can get wasted and overused, you claimed,
but keep repeating how perfect my face is, its shape is the best,
how beautiful my smile is, and how I am the "la mas Bonita persona" you have been with,
you simply claim I am perfect.
I can assure you are wrong,
and it was the gorgeous landscape, delicious food and glorious prosecco
that tricked your mind into seeing me as perfect.
it is because you only see the beauty in people,
you have a filter for the flaws,
that converts my wrinkles into flawless skin.
You photoshop with your beautiful big bright eyes, BBB,
and also filter to rainbow settings and outstanding sunsets with your long curly eyelashes.
I told you I am not perfect and if you will know me better you will see my cracks,
so you let me go, to not ruin the gloriously bright and perfect image that you have of me.
You lost me like sand between your fingers.
While I am trying to hold onto every breath
and every second I can get,
when I hear the reverse countdown clock
ticking its way down to death,
thanks for holding my hand.
While I hold into life,
and am grateful for any extra deep breath
after the expiration date,
I am most grateful for you holding my hand.
I can fall asleep save knowing that
if I don't wake up,
you will keep my legacy going,
my energy will stay with you,
as it passes from my body to your hand.
Enjoying every second we are connected,
for what could be the last time,
like if there is no tomorrow,
because there is actually no tomorrow,
we can just hold each other close,
so thank you for holding my hand.
I am aware it is difficult,
I am aware you are in pain,
different from my pain,
but valid as any,
so thank you for holding my hand,
holding me holding life.
Laying painfully waiting for the anesthesiologist,
grateful that the hospital wall is thin as paper
I can hear you two whisper,
my past and my present/future.
Both sharing kind stories about me,
both hoping I will survive
both praising my positive bad sense of humor
answering the "do you have any allergy?" question
with "well, apparently I am not allergic enough to cancer..."
"LOL ball" you called me, and my ex confirmed
that is an accurate depiction of me.
Junk happiness will never guide you to real happiness,
my sweet child,
I wish I could show you the way so you don't have to suffer
my sweet child,
but then, how would you learn the lesson?
how would you become stronger and wiser?
I have been advised to let you waste your time and care
to let you walk the same path I did,
until you see with your own eyes, and you let go,
even if this will bring you pain.
Only a few people walk this path,
lose something they cherish,
it could be your hair,
that silky embellishment
that fills you with pride,
and it is fastly disappearing,
it is letting you go,
and you need to let it go too.
Some of us get allergies in middle age times,
that cause the hair to let go of us,
others have to choose between this or dying,
and chose to go to treatments and let go of the hair,
a small let go, instead of the bigger let go (of life).
They say "it is only hair", "it will grow back"
but it is part of you, of your identity,
it was part of you when every day 50 to 100 hairs
were leaving you, but you let those go.
My sweet child, I will hold your hand
all the way, but I shouldn't take the pain from you
because I won't be the person I am today,
without the pain I went through,
and I wouldn't let anyone take my future pain away
and that would make me the better me,
if that would help others,
and I know you are a mirror of me,
so I have to let you go.
I will only slightly guide you,
to keep your kindness in times you can control,
to stay strong even when you are falling apart,
mentally and physically.
My junk happiness was the sweet food that caused me terrible pain,
was also the time I wasted in unworthy pursues,
but in the middle of constant losses,
I found the extraordinary power of letting go.
You melted my black hard cocoon,
with your sweet treatments,
you are such a cute tycoon,
full of entrepreneurial comments.
You discovered the underlayers, the white side of me,
the bright side I do not expose to the light of day.
you didn't crack me
like if I was an easter egg in May.
You managed to open the almost impossible to open yellow container,
to discover the likewise difficult to assemble puzzle figurine
that is my strange persona and entertainer,
your wizard enchantress hands make it a no-brainer.
You use your strength and your technique
to melt my tough nods and relax my being,
you know the exact moment in my physique
where I am about to say the safe word for stopping,
and then you ease the pain, like if you were able to read my mind.
I was going to title this poem:
You can get away with murder with those big blue eyes,
but I imagine your smile when you see the new emblem
and making you laugh is my new hawkeye.
Buy, yes, you can get away with the weirdest conversations,
when your blue eyes smile at me,
they hug me soo deeply that we travel to other space stations
and keep me safe and free to be me.
Your blue eyes are my multiverse,
my ocean of peace and health
the place to freely share a verse
and to share our wealth.
