terça-feira, maio 01, 2012

A White Blank Page

I was in a filthy smelly bar when I saw her the first time.

Her white skin, her blue eyes, her auburn curls, her high cheekbones and her red lips. Always the red lips. And the curves designed by her dress. That was all I could see. All.

And there was nothing in the bar but her sweet voice and the distant sound of a banjo.

“You can lie next to her and give her your heart, as well as your body. You can lie next to her and confess your love, as well as your folly. You can put her into your arms and caress her face. You can take her out from the shadows and make her eyes spark. You can build a tower until the highest sky in devotion to her name. You can turn her into your only truth. You can follow her with your life, your whole life. But it won’t work. Nothing will. It doesn’t matter what you will do, what you will try. You are going to find the same result: a white blank page and a swelling rage. And in the end, you’ll ask yourself: where was your fault in loving her with your whole heart? She will desire your attention and deny your affection. She just wants to be the center and she doesn’t care for what she is going to break in order to achieve it. Step away. She is not for you, son.”

He told me that, all these words, before I left my place that night to give her all the black blood that was dripping from my hands in her name. And I should have listened to him.

But when I came back to my senses, it was already too late. Just too late.

I was in the mud.

The bartender came to me again and pushed me from the ground. But then he told me:

“Weep, because you’re not as brave as you were at the start. Weep for yourself, my man, it’ll never be what is in your heart. Rate yourself and rape yourself and find all the courage you have left. Take it and stop wasting it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head. I know it was not your fault, she is the devil, little man, and you were brave in confronting her, but you were also a fool. It wasn’t your fault, but it was your heart and a train just passed over it. You know you have seen this all before, but it doesn’t make things easier, I know. I see your grace wasted in your face, I see your boldness standing alone among the wreck. Please, little lion man, stop biting your own neck.”

And told him:

“My head told my heart to let love grow, but my heart told my head that this time no. Unfortunately, I have this awful habit of not listening to my heart.”

“Be aware, it can become frozen because of the winds. And just one last advice, my man, you better know your name when it’s called again.”

It wasn’t frightening to me. I left the bar after one beer. It was empty in the valley of my heart and the sun was rising so slowly as I walked that I was already feeling frozen. All the fears and all the faults that 

I’ve once left behind were there again, haunting me. 

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