Escrito escuchando la canción Athena´s Death interpretada por Dianakyv. Somos una partitura llena de recuerdos, algunos felices, otros tan dolorosos que pueden hacernos llorar.

Me aqueja una frase del pasado que se ha vuelto eterna. Duele, desgarra y me desquebraja al recordarla. Sé siente cómo el viento, sopla de manera violenta mientras que ella no está. “¿Por qué no estás?” Vacío, tan triste y fugaz. Me robó el tiempo y la forma de amar.

Su sonrisa era un manantial. Ella era mi calma, mis emociones y tranquilidad.

¡Una nota de infelicidad! Rogué, grité y me arrodillé a pesar de saber nuestro final. No hablaba, la piel se resecaba y su hermoso cabello caía, así como lo hacen las rosas que no pueden volver a retoñar.

Mi pecho late por el recuerdo de uno de sus susurros:

— La vida es efímera, el amor es un destello de luz que brilla y nunca se puede olvidar… somos pétalos rojos, blancos o amarillos. Nosotros escogemos el color y el modo en que no nos puedan olvidar.

La sentencia fue erigida sin pesar.

“¿Qué le interesa al mundo que sea un Collins si no puedo estar junto a ella, aunque sea una vez?” Un pensamiento absurdo, un atisbo doloroso e insaciable que no se puede llenar ni siquiera al respirar.

Duele por dentro. ¡Quema! Me rompe sin que pueda objetar.

La misma inmundicia ocurría todos los días en el hospital en Venezuela. Sophia perfilaba agonía, pavor y horror. No había murallas, ni nubes, ni arena, ni aguas y tampoco hojas que pudieran curar su enfermedad.

Sophia, mi hermosa y cálida Sophia.

Ella, una flor marchita.

Yo, un caudal de lágrimas sumergido en la nocturnidad.

Escaseaba la bondad, no había intravenosa, el algodón era un lujo que no podíamos hallar, las bombillas se apagaban y la peste de la insalubridad era lo que nos rodeaba. Sophia se desangraba en mis brazos y yo no la podía salvar.

Deplorable verdad. Injusticia voraz. Implacable enfermedad. Se nos arrebató a ambos la posibilidad de amar.

Cruel Nocturnity | Microstory

I was listening to the song Athena's Death, performed by Dianakyv. We are a score full of memories, some happy, others so painful that they can make us cry.

I am afflicted by a phrase from the past that has become eternal. It hurts, tears and tears me apart as I remember it. I know it feels like the wind, it blows violently while she is gone. "Why aren't you?" empty, so sad and fleeting. She stole my time and the way to love.

Her smile was a spring. She was my calm, my emotions and tranquility.

A note of unhappiness! I begged, screamed and knelt despite knowing our end. She didn't speak; her skin dried out, and her beautiful hair fell, just like roses that can't sprout again.

My chest throbbed at the memory of one of her whispers:

"Life is ephemeral; love is a flash of light that shines and can never be forgotten... we are red, white or yellow petals. We choose the color and the way we cannot be forgotten".

The sentence was erected without regret.

"What does it matter to the world that I'm a Collins if I can't be next to her, even once?" An absurd thought, a painful and insatiable glimpse that cannot be filled even by breathing.

It hurts inside. It burns! It breaks me without my being able to object.

The same filth was happening every day in the hospital in Venezuela. Sophia profiled agony, dread and horror. There were no walls, no clouds, no sand, no water and no leaves to cure her illness.

Sophia, my beautiful and warm Sophia.

She, a wilted flower.

I, a stream of tears submerged in the night.

Kindness was scarce, there was no IV, cotton was a luxury we couldn't find, light bulbs were going out, and the stench of unhealthiness was all around us. Sophia was bleeding to death in my arms, and I could not save her.

Deplorable truth. Voracious injustice. Relentless disease. Both of us were robbed of the possibility of love.

Original content by @neruel. All rights reserved ©, 2024. Based on real events. Translation: DeepL. Sources: Ilya Ignatiev || Unsplash - Made in Canva.