Old happy stars

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Do you remember when you were a kid?

And every shinny thing in the sky looked like a star?

I would spend hours staring, even before it became dark, just so i could catch the first one.

When did stars become boring?

When did i stopped searching for them?

I need them back.

I need all those stars i found when i was a girl.

And the wishes i made on them too.

And the people that was by my side.

I need all the things i left behind…

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All my beautiful wolves.

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The good days are the ones where the wolves are sleeping. You can’t make a noise and you have to tip-toe but they leave you alone.

Sleeping like that they resemble innocent children. They sleep, you sleep.They let you rest.

The bad days are the ones where they are all awake and hungry. They are too sick, too famished to be a menace.  They are just skin and bones and they cry the howl of the dying. That deep desperate voice than more than a scream is a hole.

The bad days are the ones when they are thirsty and starving and sick. And you don’t have anything to give them so you just sit in the middle and starve with them.

The bad days bite, their teeth like glass. Their breath rotten.

The bad days: A pack of mighty wolves giving up.

It’s so embarrassing, it happened right here.

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Lost in my own house!

Scary, big, white, cold house.

When did this rooms got so strange?

I learned to walk here.


My bed so small, my clothes too baggy, my mind too tight.


There is this skirt that i haven’t worn in years.

This books full of dust, this person i used to love but is now dead.


All this things that were me but are now useless.


All this things, all days in 28 years leading to right now,

to this very exact moment.


The moment where i stood infront of a mirror

but had lost myself.

About Amelia and her hunger for a kiss.

 

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Her need for him started out of nowhere, just like that, out of nothing.

One day she woke up and it was there, like a gray hair you hadn’t noticed before.

Out of nothing.

Out of watching him out of the corner of her eye.

Like an specific hunger for an specific cake, for THAT muffin from THAT place.

Like an impossible craving at midnight in a house with no food.

Her hunger for him was born and started growing.

And speaking, and demanding, and waking her up in the middle of the night.

The hunger was single, but she was married, and so was he.

 

Hunger, like all things alive, wanted to live.

She learned the human language:

“Next to him, closer to him, touch him, his hand, his face, his leg, go on, go on, keep going…

He’s getting it now.

Don’t stop!”

 

And hunger got so big it swallowed both of them.

Two puppets playing a part they hadn’t rehearsed before.

Two puppets improvising.

Did i liked it?

Did i REALLY wanted it?

Anyone saw?

Will he read it on my face?

 

Hunger, once satisfied, leaves.

And human beings are left alone.

They go back to the address in their credit cards,

Their nice houses, with a smiling partner warm inside.

And they kiss them with closed mouths.

Then lie down in the same bed as always, but they no longer fit.

Now full with a sea of voids, and questions, and feelings.

And a hunger, hunger, hunger.

For the way things were before…