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We balance our life, or our life balances us?

Aquí estás de nuevo, leyéndome.
Sea por la razón que sea, de forma casual, por la notificación de Instagram o por su forma de ordenar, pero aquí estás.
No sé si me conoces o me conocerás, si amas mis letras o las vas a odiar, pero qué más da.
Soy el verso que se ahoga que escribe para dejar de serlo, la soga atada al cuello que avanza lento. A veces se para... A veces se separa el cielo y el infierno, los demonios internos que todos tenemos vienen a visitar a menudo mi cuaderno. Los expulso cuando me reconocen por dentro. Como a ti.
En fin, qué te voy a decir, seguro que tú también sueles morir para resurgir. Pero dime al menos que no miento, que tú te reconoces en mi sentimiento.
Dime que latimos al mismo tiempo.

#escritosen5minutos #andresdosleyes #conversoconversos


Available in seven days at the Gladstone for this year's book launch. Write Left will be available on Amazon mid-June. Link dropping soon.
Ps. Don't tell my grandma that I wrote a book, this is a surprise for her. ❤️🙏

Mademoiselle —

Je t'adore, je t'aime beaucoup
I rehearsed them surprisingly well
Thinking that I was madly in love,
With you, Mademoiselle.
I wondered whether to slide them in
One of those silent spells,
Or, wait for the time we would walk next,
When none of those bloody pollens fell?

Yesterday, I mustered my heart to mumble in French,
Those few words — awkward yet heartfelt
You feigned ignorance, and looked away
Why, but why, o' Mademoiselle?
Cologne bottles are half-empty
Since you like a guy by the way he smells.
Despite your blocked nose, I made sure
Never to disappoint you, Mademoiselle

Not a word could I write,
For the past few weeks, I'd swell.
Enchanted, I was, or so, I thought,
With you, Mademoiselle.
Was it your blue eyes
Or your funny English that I quelled?
Or was it one of our quiet walks
That you relished, while I'd restlessly yell?

Happy as I could write now,
There are many stories I wish to tell.
I craved not for your companionship
But perhaps, this heartbreak, o hell.
"Is it really over?" I'd asked you yesterday,
Before I cooped into a shell.
"Oui monsieur," you'd mumbled.
Will miss you, I'd heard. I heard it so well.


Would you like to sit here and contemplate on the meaning of life for a couple of hours?

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