Jaumear

I sit and wait in front of a blank screen.
Nothing happens.
Nothing will ever happen if I don’t allow it.
Old drawings get smudged in my mind
but I didn’t want to forget them until death:
your smile,
the touch of your skin,
the taste of your sweat against mine.
¿Why can’t I remember?
I thought I always would.
Always.
A word that used to have some sense.
It meant every morning, when I woke up
I’d know you existed thus I could smile.
Never.
That’s now.
Nothing.
That’s what’s left either the sun raises or sets.
I fought against the dragons of oblivion,
against fierce hordes of ink stains
who hoped to erase my words.
They tried to make me go back,
to the trenches,
safe from the mortars loaded
with silences and empties you throwed at me.
I wrote a thousand lines.
A thousand verses.
A thousand lifes with you.
I lost not for giving up,
but because the rival didn’t show up.
¡I wanted to fight for you!
Struggle to death,
cry for the rage,
try again and again,
never faint.
Facing nothing.
But that nothing I talk about,
that’s what showed in your place.
To play, dance, shout, even fly,
it doesn’t matter if you can’t see me.
I wonder if it was fear,
maybe cowardice,
if it was me or it was destiny.
I was left behind.
Waving my sad sword,
now turned into an harlequin stick.
Nobody to fight with.
Nothing to defeat.
Only the shallow sound of oblivion.
Only the darkness.
I can ask as many questions as I please,
only you can answer them.
You did nothing.
Never.
And now all that’s left
are two words which describe what I’m worth.
Nothing.
Never.
Wish it could be everything,
always,
like it was, at least, when I dreamt of you.
How are you?, he asked.
She just turned away and walked.
And she walked until disappearing into the oblivion’s fog.