He doesn't like it how my moods change faster than the weather in New England. Or how I recently cry to fast just because of the tensions our leaving gives me. He doesn't like it how I sometimes bite him too hard, or how I look or talk about other man. No, I know how he doesn't like that. But I can not help myself and despite his face, his body language, I keep doing those things a front of him.


I don't like it how he talks about his Colombia, the food of his country, his friends and especially his female friends. I know he will see that/them soon more than me, and he might only remember me in the cool shadows of his memory. I will be in a dusty place, where the winds nearly comes to blow away the false memories, so that in the end he only sees me vaguely and when I visit him in his dreams he will think I am stranger carried with the wind. I might kiss his lips, but without response.


There will be times that we are more clearer in each others memories, that we suddenly, be accident, see our faces in the water of a pool by night. And we might sigh than by our lost of times, because when the image fades away of our faces we will see the wrinkles in our own. We will smile about our adolescence love in 'those times'. Not realizing that nothing has been changed since than... only our body's. But we are too far away from one another to confirm that.