Loyalty

I assumed it was the fourteen because of the pink, there was a red on my fingers that warned it was a new year and the lovers were falling off the bridges. 

They asked me for a two hundred dollars for a chocolate and I left with alcohol and my finger up.

They told me of love for one night and pretend the loneliness. To deceive that there would be a possibility in others desperate. But I said that my heart has been sleeping for five winters. And better try with the neighbour.

My television broke down in the moment of the kisses and my eyes seemed glued in the understanding of the tied hands and the looks of accomplices. Seeking to understand a heart divided in two. It was that poetry that day had closed its doors to me.

That ten minutes to twelve they offered me a quickie and we finished it with the fact that we were not abandoned by broken hearts. They gave me hope to lie to friends and family if I felt cold.

However, I explained that because of sadness of loyalty I didn’t feel able to kiss without throwing up. And that on another day of left behind I would have said yes. Thrown to the feet and asked for more than ten. Yet, in the days that your name beats in my brain. In which your fingers run through my veins like they were strings and I am repeating the same three songs with your voice trapped. I find it impossible and suicidal to accept another body other than your laugh thrown to the left. With bruised fingers, lies two by one and reflection in the eyes.

In which I have the seconds before the end of the year to create new chances. They tell me that hearts heal and ask me to be their Valentin. Nevertheless, I tell them that I lost my heart in a blind yield. 

And I'm not looking for new when I met someone who treats me like porcelain that burns.

T.A.