Weekend

You pull the string and the light goes off. She says good night. You lie there with her; memories, kisses and laughs. She enters your room (you had been waiting for it while reading a book of old stained pages) and lays on top of you as you put the words aside. You get under the blankets and grab a book. You say good night and embrace the last hug of the night; or at least that's what you think. You, you and her, come back home late at night after displaying a secret many people knew about. You wash the dishes and clean your kitchen while she sleeps on your sofa under your blanket. You pick up the bowl she filled with cereal and milk fifteen minutes ago. You wake up and she is not there; cleaning time.

She tells you that you should go to sleep to your room. You ask her if you could sleep with her tonight, after having fallen asleep while she was resting in your lap watching one of your favorite shows. You put the sofa bed away around four in the afternoon because you think it has been enough watching TV and enjoying her sleep in your arms for that day. You explain to her that your sofa pulls out to a bed and you both decide to lay there and watch movies in a Saturday morning. You wake up in her mattress that rests on top of her box spring; you were cold that night but your soul was sold in peace.

The night ends as it should have ended. You both come back from a concert that started way too late. Walking home is not as terrible when you have her besides you, grabbing your arm. You ask her to go home. You and her are upstairs kissing and hugging in the midst of dancers, the music plays loudly. Downstairs, you kiss her. You tell her that you like her. She tells you that she likes you. The two of you order a couple of drinks from the bar. You and her come into the bar and pay the eight dollars they were charging. She brings you a beer; you pour her a drink. You fill the flask in preparation for the night. You both drink after taking showers. You look at her and cannot stop admiring her beauty. You talk to her and you like her.

"Days like this"

In days this like this I feel powerful and vulnerable. I feel like going back to create a future. I feel that the tomorrow will bring the same disappointments of the yesterday; that broken hearts will, inevitably, be. That the fact that I am getting my bangs grow is a fruitless endeavor because I will cut them anyways. All the words I've said, I feel, have been in vane. The one that I used to be is not anymore and the one I wanted to be may not ever happen. I feel convoluted, I encounter myself digging through my past, thinking if the decisions I made were the right ones. Most of the times I believe they were, some other I simply do not know.