Nada me entristese mas

...Que oirte pronuciar...

"Un vuelo de ida"

Una Historia prestada

“I really need to buy curtains” Sam said to himself as the bright sunlight stretched into his studio apartment. He always hated how the sunlight would shine directly in his eyes, yet he never seemed to do anything about it. He would always think to move the bed, but today he thought curtains. That was a strange thought for him. He got out of bed, to most it would’ve looked like a corpse rising from a tomb. He literally dragged his feet all the way to the bathroom. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he looked at himself in the mirror. Sam was a handsome man, strong jaw line, soft gentle lips framed by a 5 o’clock shadow beard a few hours late. Yet he still looked very masculine. However, his most distinguishing feature were his light grey eyes that would pierce through his long dark hair as it gently fell over his face. He walked out of the bathroom with only his boxer briefs and walked to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. Sam was not a coffee person; he always kept some around if somebody stopped by. He felt today was different, first the idea of curtains running through his head and now a cup of coffee, in his mind, after last night he needed the coffee. He poured himself a cup and started looking around his apartment. He lived in an old building that used to be a warehouse, there were no walls separating any of the living spaces, and that is how Sam loved it. He had always lived his live without limits or barriers. The only space surrounded by walls was the toilet, but basically because of guests, the shower was completely out in the open. Besides the lack of walls or divisions, the most interesting decorations were the kayak, bicycle and a makeshift climbing wall. Sam had always been the outdoorsman, he felt at home in nature. One time he was asked why make a rock climbing wall, to which he answered “It keeps my mind and body sharp and in shape”. Sam was an artist, even though the most interesting things in his house were the kayak and rock climbing walls, the most beautiful were the paintings at the back of the apartment, his studio. He had made a little money selling some; it was hard for him to part with them so he tried writing and managed to publish a few books. He used a different name; he was a little embarrassed to write the fact that he wrote romance novels. Even though he wrote romance novels, characterized by the impossible, improbable loves that they portrayed and the happy endings, with the occasional cliffhanger. He had never had any luck at love. Sure he had a few women in his life, but never anything to drive him crazy. He quickly changed, he put on his best pair of broken in jeans, a white t-shirt and his trusty leather bomber jacket that he’s had since high school and his first motorcycle. He walked over to the elevator, the only way in and out. Pushed his bike inside the elevator and went out to buy curtains. It was a cool Sunday afternoon; he had slept till about noon. He was trying to paint yesterday, but was extremely frustrated that he couldn’t find the inspiration to paint. It had been years since his last painting, and he was feeling the urge. While riding he was thinking where in the hell could he find curtains. He decided to try a place in the middle of town, he hardly ever went there anyway, only when he was trying to sell paintings and it’s been awhile since he had done that. There was hardly any traffic and the city was quiet, Sam couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. He came up to a stoplight, placed the bike in neutral and leaned back. He rode a black Yamaha R1, he thought that Harleys were too loud and expensive, besides he always wanted to be Tom Cruise in Top Gun, go figure. What Sam didn’t know was that at that very stoplight he would receive the surprise of a lifetime. Just as he was barely leaning back, a girl suddenly jumped on the back of the bike and screamed for him to go, he didn’t have the chance to look back and see her. He was afraid that she was in trouble and he might be as well. He put the bike in gear and they were gone in a heartbeat. The girl wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on tight as they sped down the streets. He noticed that she had small delicate hands, and as she embraced him he could smell her perfume. She was wearing black pants and high heels. That was all he could see. He could feel her head pressing against his back. Today was a strange day, yet he felt extremely comfortable with this stranger holding him. It felt normal to him, as if he had known this person his whole life. He decided to stop at the park and get his bearings and figure out what had just happened. When they finally reached the park he turned the bike off and got off. She was still sitting on the back. He was surprised when he saw her, she was beautiful. She was petite, and yet commanding for her size. She had dark hair and dark eyes, so deep and powerful he felt as if he were going to get sucked in by them like a black hole. She posed sensually and asked why he stopped. He could barely talk, but managed to ask “why in the hell did you jump on my bike? Are you in trouble or something?”. She gave off a coy smile, moved her body forward, and grabbed the handle bars. Then se answered, “No, I just wanted a quick ride.” To say that Sam was shocked was like saying that the Great Wall of China was just another brick wall. He was furious, but that lasted only a few seconds until he looked at her and she smiled at him. He thought, great now what do I do. They were both looking at each other; he walked over and asked her want she wanted. She said that all she wanted was a ride. He nodded and they were off. It was getting dark and he asked her what she wanted to do, she still answered that she wanted to ride, but this time here hands were not on his waist, they had strayed further down. He decided to take her back to his place. Once they got there, she walked around enjoying the apartment. He walked over to the kitchen and pulled out the only bottle of wine he had left, a bottle of Zymphony. She walked past the bed and looked at him, “you need curtains”. All he could do was laugh inside. She walked over to the studio and lifted the sheets covering the paintings; she paused and looked at him with a sad face. “These are beautiful” to which he replied, “They are very old”. She looked at him and noticed that sadness of having lost the inspiration to paint. She smiled, took of her clothes and got in the shower. When she came out she ripped the glass of wine from his hands, drank it like a shot of tequila and smashed the glass. She was dripping wet and the light of the apartment brought out the curves or her shimmering body. She leapt onto the bed and laid face down, slightly to the side with her leg bent at the knees. “Paint me” she said. He took the empty canvas that was lying on the floor and started painting with charcoal. He had never painted to quickly with such fervor and desire. All she did was smile as he maniacally stroked the piece of charcoal, capturing her rapturous figure on canvas. He was close to finishing when she got up and walked over to him. She slammed him to the floor and kissed him as he had never been kissed. His charcoal covered hands left streaks of passion over her body. It was a story, the story of their passion that light written with their hands, charcoal and sweat. They made love all night with a passion that not even his best romance novels could convey. She was wild, vivid, passionate, and mysterious; he was intoxicated, he was hooked on her poison. He would die by her hand he thought to himself, he was more than willing to do anything for her, then and there. They made love all over the apartment. Sam never thought that the rock climbing wall would be so useful. After their marathon love making session, Sam fell asleep with here lying on top. He soon woke up to find her gone; he rushed to the window to see if he could see her walking by. She was gone, he felt devastated at that moment. He walked over to the canvas he hadn’t finished and completed the painting. He thought it was the last thing he could do to say goodbye to her. He didn’t even get her name. He fell asleep again, lonely and heartbroken. When he woke the next morning he went to wash his face and brush his teeth, when he walked out he noticed something that he hadn’t before. There was something written on his sheets in charcoal. “I had a great time Lover, I promise to bring curtains. Lola.” He had his doubts that she would ever come back and see him, but at least now he had hope. He thought about all the decisions he had made yesterday. To think my life would change over curtains. Sam laughed, walked over to the wall and started to climb, how high would he go, only time will tell…

AUTOR CONOCIDO

Tarde

Justamente ahora irrumpes en mi vida,

con tu cuerpo exacto y ojos de asesina.

Tarde como siempre, nos llega la fortuna.

Tú ibas con él, yo iba con ella, jugando a ser felices por desesperados,

por no aguardar los sueños, por miedo a quedar solos.

Pero llegamos tarde, te vi y me viste, nos reconocimos enseguida, pero tarde.

Maldita sea la hora que encontré lo que soñé, tarde

Tanto soñarte y extrañarte sin tenerte, tanto inventarte,

tanto buscarte por las calles como un loco, sin encontrarte.

Y ahí va uno de tonto; por desesperado, confundiendo amor con compañía.

Y ese miedo idiota de verte viejo y sin pareja,

te hace escoger con la cabeza lo que es del corazón.

Y no tengo nada contra ellos, la rabia es contra el tiempo por ponerte junto a mi, tarde...

Ganas de huir, de no verte ni la sombra,

de pensar que ésto fue un sueño o una pesadilla,

que nunca apareciste, que nunca has existido.

Ganas de besarte, de coincidir contigo, de acercarme un poco y amarrarte en un abrazo,

de mirarte a los ojos y decirte bienvenida.

Pero llegamos tarde, te vi y me viste, nos reconocimos enseguida, pero tarde.

Quizás en otras vidas..... quizás en otras muertes.

Que ganas de rozarte, que ganas de tocarte, de acercarme a ti y golpearte con un beso,

de fugarnos para siempre, sin daños a terceros

Un poco loca?

La verdadera locura quizas no sea otra cosa que la sabiduria misma que cansada de descubrir las verguenzas del mundo, ha tomado la inteligente decision de volverse loca.