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Meros pensamentos dramatizados em verso e em prosa


Meros pensamentos dramatizados em verso e em prosa

Sex | 02.10.20

When it rains.

H. Alegria

Mom says "have you written anything about it?". I didn't. Sometimes I don't. Seems easier to do so when it rains. And sometimes it doesn't rains in those specific days we thought it would.

Actually, it's so much easier to write all down when it rains... When the heart is pouring, or aching... Not necessarely both. Probably my best therapy.

But sometimes it's supposed to be your birthday and the sun is shining. Or marks the day you closed your eyes, but the sun is so warm. Ironically, the day we said goodbye, physically, the sun was so warm. Considering it was October, it was actually such a beautiful day. Except for the dark clothes and long sleeves, no matter how thin, that burned us within... Except for the ache of freshly wounded hearts... Some more honest than others. And even the gelid feel of your skin, as I kissed you goodbye one last time... Could there be anything crueler than that? 

Truth is, for me at least, it is easier to write down the rain in my heart. I remember being told how I would always write the same thing over and over again. I guess it rained a lot, for the same reason. When it comes to you, sometimes I'm aching for the lack of rain. It feels like I'm heartless if it doesn't rains, and the calendar marks a date where life signed your name... I do know it will always rain for you, every once in a while, no matter how long the sun shines.

But, just like rain, pain is never that different to describe. Heartbreak only changes in context. And portion... Like rain.

Missing you... Not even that.

You know, this is the first year where the week days are the same as the year you left. I wish I had made so much more of the time I had you around... Write down all the stories you had to tell, all the memories you had to share... I'd save them with my life, as I already do with the ones I heard here and there... I wish I had the most of them, with only your commas and no one elses.

All those days in that hospital room could've been so much more than me holding your hand. All those months, sick at home... Wish I knew how valuable it was to have you with me back then. It was hell when you left... And I wasn't counting on having anything to say these days, but apparently, I had.

You said weeks earlier that your time was up, and I didn't needed you anymore. Considering your health, you surely helded on so long... Those words still hurt. I still need you to this day. I also still feel like I coud've done so much more for you, no matter "how much" I did. Nothing is ever enough. And I was just a foolish teen, that independently of the certain that you'd leave early, could never, ever, be prepared to lose her dad.

Mom will wonder if I wrote you anything... Appearently I did, a few days ahead.. She'll complain over how I wrote it in english and she doesn't understand. But all I care is it rained, and it wrote all my vents away... I miss you, as always. Therapy session over.

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