Barefoot

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I don’t mind living with a broken mind. The broken heart is what submerges my feet under the dry mud that the sun is not willing to leave.

Wherever I turn around, there is nothing familiar. It’s my land, but she doesn’t recognize me. The déjà vu assures me I dreamed with this place before. I remember fear covered my skeptical eyes that moonless night. So many days and years feeling like I didn’t belong. So many nights and months asking for help, the wrong kind. So many flights, but never the right destination.

The moment is here. I’m standing surrounded by mountains in the middle of the corn field looking at the boundless sky that is blurred by tears of survival. Life is facing me, but I’ve no courage to look at it. I cannot walk away, not again.

It is what I imagined, and a little bit worst.

Located between rock and rock as the salty water caresses my scratchy feet and the sun visits my golden skin, I cease to be.

With each wave my particles vanish showing the sweet and chilling fragility of my insignificant being. Tears slide overthrowing what I believed to have. As my body is emptied, my heart starts to beat.

So many years to forgive, so many stories to transform. Stories that walk through unpaved streets made by hands of men who do not know how to caress.

My androgynous figure glides back and forth between guitar and violin strings; musical notes disappear in my inhumane skin. Caresses and flares bombard my immortal soul that emerges to the sound of my breathing.

What is left of the petals that wither with every step I take? Which unpaved road I will learn to cherish?

Unknown is the future, but it’s finally mine, and it’s full of clandestine dreams.