efimero

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aveces quisiera llamarte... hablarte y decirte... tomarte y sentirte... quererte y vivirte; pero la dificultad de tener el único camino a ti, bloqueado por tormenta y penuria, todo gracias al pueblo pequeño [...], me irrita.

 irritado por las miles de veces en que tuve que cerrar mi boca, tensar mi mano y mirar al otro lado. esperando la otra bofetada que me hace falta para dejar esta farsa. olvidar las veces que negamos por cuidar[te]nos de las luces de aquel interrogatorio de la SS, donde tantos quisieron morir, mas que callar... aun si nuestras manos se encuentran en la penumbra... aun si...

 si el llevarte de la mano resulta pecado delante de los ojos que tanto te guiaron, talvez sea necesario cerrar los ojos y dejarse llevar... y lloverían estrellas... pero la cantidad de "peros" que caben luego de esta frase son mas pesados que las ganas que aparentamos tener...

 aparentamos buscar en nuestros labios un sitio para llevar la contraria. encontramos un lugar para dejar el calor que esconden nuestros uniformes, de manera clandestina, permitiéndole ser fuerte y uno; esos momentos donde la soledad nos cobija.

 y entre cobijas quemamos las ansias de amarnos en silencio... y aveces quisiera llamarte...

 llamarte por tu nombre y, como hacen en esta sociedad, darte mi apellido... hablarte de un futuro perdido entre lágrimas que ojos nunca brotaron. contarte historias de viajes astrales en el tiempo/espacio... y llevarte conmigo al infinito.

 así como infinitos son los gritos que se escuchan a la distancia... así como pronto se oirán los nuestros... así como el nunca será jamás; y el tal vez...

 tal vez sea suficiente o tal vez nunca lo será, pero si sabré llevarme a la tumba tu secreto, que es tan mio... y quién sabe? tal vez te lleve conmigo... quién sabrá?

 sabrás entenderme si te cuento; me lo ha dicho una voz.
pero este cuento...
se acabo.

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