AmeliadosSantos

Em frente à sua casa, insegura como sempre estive, cruzei o portão que me separava de você.
Eu entrei e vi o sorriso da mulher que te trouxe ao mundo, o sofá onde costumávamos conversar, a mesa onde me foi servida aceitação e gentileza, o tapete sobre o qual te entreguei meus segredos mais confusos naquele dia trêmulo de cumplicidade, e vi você ali, parado, o homem feito de mar.
Homem este que é meu, até que se prove o contrário.
Saboreei a brisa salgada na sua respiração. Afundei no azul dos seus olhos. Senti a vida se esvair do meu ser quando sua mão de rochas tocou meu rosto - a mesma mão que destruiu os navios dos meus medos, que poupou meus sonhos naufragados, que afogou gentilmente minhas incertezas.
Sua voz, o rugido das ondas, a voz que de verdade te pertencia, a que eu ouvi tantas vezes e que eu reconheceria em qualquer lugar a qualquer momento, aquela que eu julguei esquecida e superada, essa voz

Ai de mim,
que vi brotar, em sua exuberância,
a flor mais feia do jardim
no solo árido e imaturo do meu coração.
Mal havíamos aberto as pétalas da juventude,
e já nos jurávamos fidelidade atemporal.
Amor eterno e sem barba.
Suspiros ingênuos em roupas de escola.
Não durou um ano.
Como dizia o poetinha, no entanto, que seja infinito
(e foi)
enquanto
(ou ainda que não)
dure.
Tão infinito
que ainda ecoa nas paredes frias dos meus dias,
que ainda ouço o gotejar suave do sangue
que escorre da saudade aberta no meu peito.
Mas saudade sempre tivemos,
principalmente do que não era nosso.
Se houvesse o destino dos amantes
(que não há),
ele nos condenaria à separação eterna,
ao divórcio de nossas mentes já tão intrínsecas,
ao paralelismo maldito de nossas solidões.
Como ele não há
(e nunca houve),
quem decretou o fim fui eu, meu amor.
Eu
(sem você)
tomei a decis&

"So, what do you think?" Michael asked, not only with his voice, but with his eyes. He was close enough to hear Audrey's breathing but not that close to understand the mess that her brain was trying to untangle. He was so much in love with her that none of alternatives felt right. She had to say yes, and she would eventually. Michael just knew that.
They were under what can be called "their tree". It was the spot they first kissed. There was something magical about that place, no one could really get it. But Audrey and Michael did. There was where, as Michael liked to say, you can see "the sky as it turns dreamy red but the gray city still lies ahead with all its reality". Audrey used to close her eyes every evening, remembering his tone when he said that. It was moments before their first kiss. The best day of her life, in fact. They had ice cream cones that day and ran after a puppy in the park. Fun, I know, and cute too.
Anyway, they were under the tree. That's what was really going

I don't want it to suddenly end.
Another turbulence of soul, another loneliness.
Stay here forever, lie down with me and look at the stars.
Words crossing in our conversations,
without a defined direction and without a goal.
Our voices just fly about, free and in love.
Only wind and light, our eternities together.
You and me: Calmness and Storm.
The perfect balance, you and me.
If you stay, I'll send soft rains to the field.
If you leave, I'll bring secular floods
and annihilate your winds and your warmth
and I'll murder every life in your life.
I'll rise up tides and cover the earth,
for the emptiness of my heart may never come back.
Chaos will come if you leave.
It's not a threat, it's a warning.
So stay.

As an assumed not-normal girl, I think I have the divine right to say: I'm Amelia and my kisses have colors.
I know it's weird, but it's the truth. Every time I kiss a guy for the first time, a color pops up in my head, as well as a sentence. My friends say I'm crazy and that the only color you see when kissing is black, because your eyes are closed.
But that's not me.
So far, I had six first kisses.
My first kiss was pink: soft, light, calm. Exactly what a first kiss should be. And the sentence that came up to me was "Is this it?". I laughed really hard afterwards; I had no idea what kissing was like. His name was Peter.
My second first kiss was red. I know, it should have been intense and hot, but it wasn't. It was a cold red, pretty weird. My mind immediately pictured my own voice saying "he's not the one". Well, I dated that guy for almost a year. His name was Louis.
My third first kiss was gray. It was pretty sad and fast. I don't think I should consider it, but I promised myself