Venus

The day smells the same as so many others when you and I were here; of wet earth, freshly cut grass, and dog piss.

And the wind blows just as hard, stirring the togas and mortarboards into whirlwinds.

“Here lies what was ours,” reads a bronze plaque on the back of a bench entrenched among birch trees.

It was on that bench where you told me about your dreams and passions. Where your stories floated, full of vibrant colors and golden glimmers above us.

I fell in love with you, sitting beneath this birch tree, my legs draped over yours and our laughter echoing against the cobblestones.

In this place we made thousands of plans, laid out like domino pieces beneath our feet.

Here you kissed me, while I stood on my toes trying to reach you.

Here you wrapped me in your biggest blanket when I was too scared to jump.

Here we grew, here we became adults.

But here you also left me, waiting for you an eternity, a History reading in my hand and an imposing palace devouring me alive.

Here I felt alone, I felt abandoned.

Here I waited for you. I waited longer than I had ever waited, and I never wanted to leave.

Here you arrived many times, but never stayed.

I felt you leave with the rain soaking you into my memories. I saw your voice fade, drowning in the puddles. I buried you here.

I got lost, I walked in circles, I walked straight ahead.

Aquí me encontré de nuevo, en el centro, en la Fuente de Venus.

Photography by Armando Belsoj.