I don't think I should have agreed to let you talk to me, because ever since we broke up, I've been avoiding the subject and haven't had time to think about everything that happened. It may seem like a lie, but I'm really so full of other people's things.

I don't know when it happened. One day I woke up and my back started to hurt. The moans escaped me more and more frequently; when I got out of bed, things on the floor seemed unreachable. I began to lose muscle mass, and my hair turned gray and thinned.

We woke up next to each other; a pair of broken souls whose spark had lit up the night and who now, defeated by the dawn, wished they were anywhere but this sordid hotel room.

The wretch keeps telling me the same thing. He walks down the street with his two hands empty, busying himself with other people's chores. The words fall from his mouth. My chest: two fractions of anxiety. I laugh, needing to snuggle up in a plush blanket.

I opened all the windows. The gusts snatched away the last drop that was trickling down my zygomatic. I looked for something to raise my eyes again. I'm more dangerous when I miss something. And yet, missing: the fingers of longing pressed against my chest.

I hold on to all of that so I don't have to run out to find you. I tie up that part of myself and throw it in a room, lock the door, so that impulse doesn't win. I repeat "no" countless times when I think about what would have happened.

Confession number five: One of the last days, I arrived and the place was empty. I could sit wherever I wanted. And without thinking, I sat next to you, where I always did. That's when I knew that, after all, this was still my place. My comfort zone. My refuge.

Juntos somos invencibles. Tal vez tú siempre lo hayas sido. Pero yo, que jamás lo había sentido, ahora lo entiendo. No importa cuánto dolor hayamos experimentado. Ni cuántas veces hayamos caído.

Yo era como Ícaro, tú eras el sol.

You follow a strict set of rules. I still can’t tell what your fuel is. You have an agenda for your emotions. You say you want peace. But you’re at war with yourself and you are our worst enemy.

He pensado en todas las veces que dijiste “me vas a extrañar” mientras rechinabas los dientes, entrecerrabas los ojos y me mirabas como si yo en realidad fuera incapaz de sentir el vacío constante si me dejaras sin tu presencia.

A veces, basta pensarte para sostener tu sombra en mi memoria: nombrarte sin voz, con el gesto apenas de un recuerdo, como si el pensamiento fuera un puente sobre tu abismo. Y si no te alcanzo, al menos, te acompaño desde el borde.