Si la decepción no se va, ¿el dolor vuelve?

Peace and love.

I’d never looked at something the way I looked at you that night. Your eyes were firmly closed, your mouth was barely half-open and your hair was messy, resembling a little rebel.

I took the privilege to softly play with what I had by my side. The tip of my index finger and my nail strolled through your scalp, then your ear, and finally they scratched the back of it. You gave a little smile, an impulsive one; and you looked like peace.

There was nothing that troubled me that night, the cold streets outside were empty. Nothing was between us. I had you. I decided to make a last movement, and I approached your ear, only to whisper “Please, never leave me.” Then, questions about whether you had heard that or not appeared in my mind. I wondered if you were dreaming, or having nightmares, and if I was part of that, too. I thought you might have needed me, and I was right there, by your side. But maybe, the one I was inside your head was lost, far away. I hold your hand firmly, and I instantly felt peace.

A weak light draw your shape. The path from your forehead to your chin was being cast from it. Some details interrupted this, but in a beautiful way; your eyebrows, your eyelids, your lips, an incipient beard around them covering your cheeks. Every shadow has its own shape, and that night you shaped peace.

I’ve always wondered things about the outside world, sometimes I liked to think of myself as an attempted philosopher. Suddenly, I understood that it was full of hate, and war. People were never what they seemed, and disappointment was the starter for this life-lasting meal. But that night, you were my world, a whole new one; and you were peace.