My old endless love
(F. Galaz, 2024)
It was an extemporazing love,
a pure and innocent one,
devoid of fears and scars.
I gave you my love too early,
you gave me yours too late.
Your ghosts and mine seemed as
if they know each other well,
and before we knew it,
they were already in love.
How could I imagined,
how could I know the
poison in your lips,
the concealed bruises in your touch,
how could I?
What started like a thrilling love,
now is not more than ashes.
A dying love, you said.
A dead love, I repeated.
But, how?
how something that is already dead,
can it be taking up all this space
in my chest? why does it keep
racing my heart with every
though it brings?
Why the thought of you
keeps makes me smile,
why does my body still asking for
your touch, even when it means
carrying with scars my whole life?
Breathlessly, that is how I feel.
Maybe that’s love you said,
let you hurt me and let me hurt you.
Nothing closer to masochism,
nothing further to love.
My love, who taught you that?.
