It has been a full bright moon
And I must admit it, it was’t easy.
As to make this day any different from the others, I took a different route back home from work. Is not that the way was new to me, I have walked those streets, crossed that bridge and around that deck several times now, but always with the intention of going somewhere else, and not precisely home. Anyway, as I was crossing the bridge over the highway, I couldn’t help realizing how bright the moon was, and then recalling the last time I saw a moon as big as this.
It was early on your birthday’s morning. The moon wasn’t that full yet but was the brightest it has been in a while, and one of the brightest things out there (you know winters are rather dark, specially on this part of the world). But there it was, the same bright your eyes used to dress when they looked into mine back then. Half frozen, half asleep, I rapidly grabbed my dying phone and took yet another bad picture of the moon, as if with that, among with some piece of poetry, I could cast your love back. Mind that I don’t say ‘win’, because I never lost it, and you never took it away from me, just let it fade.
Some days later I found myself broken again. You know I can’t stand the uncertainty, and I just had too much faith, or was way too naive to believe that there was still a little piece of heaven to hold on to. I wasn’t getting your message, or maybe I was just refusing to. Looking back to that moment, is still kind of blurry, but that was the moment I decided I had to withdraw the power I gave you for breaking my heart.
I needed to disconnect, stop waiting for the call I knew you would never return, for the answers I knew I would never get. I needed to stop showing I care about you, not because I don’t but because you no longer cared about me caring. I needed to stop waiting for you to come and fix my heart. If I wasn’t able to fix mine, how could I ever imagine try to fix yours?
And so I did. I have finally let you go.
Did it hurt? More than I thought. Cleaning the wound usually hurts the most. Do I miss you? Of course, how couldn’t I? If your ghost still wanders the same streets we used to walk, if it still hugs me when I feel cold at night. Do I still love you? You don’t even need to ask. And I will do, forever at least. Will I ever forget you? How could I, if every now and again the moon will remind me the shine on your eyes.
