While my own skin betrays me,
and words of hate have been said from their mouth,
a shut up mouth, an ignoring mouth, a sealed mouth,
I feel that I exist at last.
They can’t destroy my being with their denial,
they can’t change who I would like to love.
I will wave my flag,
I will stop blaming myself for my mistakes,
and one day, maybe really soon, this boy will be fine.
I wonder if I see another sunset,
another ceiling, another white unknown space,
another waiting, another hour in the bathtube thinking about my life.
It feels like I’m losing too much.
The smile on his face, the love he’s lost,
the worth of every day, spent smiling instead of crying.
I’m trying to force myself to smile at the mirror as the clock ticks on,
and I turn back to watch the crowded square,
and time stands still, and there’s only hope in my heart.
A pause, a glimpse of light. Let it slow down please.
I remember that time in Madrid,
staring at the King’s Palace with sad eyes as I walked away.
That blue sky, that lonely but perfect morning, that walk under a clear sun.
Where are those dreams? Where are they hidden?
It seems like a lifetime ago, a future I was claiming to be mine,
a future I still don’t know.
Every morning seems like a repetition, a blueprint of something I’ve lived once.
And now, at the beginning of the descent, at the turning of the tide, in the eye of the storm,
I let myself go, and I lose myself watching the sun rise, hoping for the dreams to come back.