He wondered at night as he looked at the blackness of the mountain sky
if she was looking at the same stars as he.
He wondered when he thought of her if she ever had
the same thoughts as he.
After all, he thought they were twins.
He thought that their two hearts were sewn together from
the same silken threads.
As he looked at the stars that shimmered and gleamed as a bush full of
fireflies, he wondered where she had gone,
and how he had let her go for that lifetime of a month or so.
What was she doing? He knew she painted and cooked and took so much
care of those she loved.
He wondered how he was not one of those, after all, he was her twin.
Many nights alone he became her hand as she painted and tried to feel
the brush in his hand as she created masterpieces. He smelled the
paint in the air of the city. It was everywhere. He could not escape
from that fragrance.
He let his arm go wherever she took it as she had his heart a short time
ago, that seemed like years.
He always thought of the thorns on the roses of her life,
and as she got closer to the flower, somehow she would prick her fingers
and a droplet of blood of rubies would pool on her lovely hand. He was
an ocean away but he wanted to taste that blood and make that small
pain leave her, just disappear as fog on the mountain as the sun
He felt this so naturally, not as something that was a dream state, but
as if it was his finger and his blood.
When the loneliness would haunt her, it haunted him as well, like
something deep and dark as a cenote.
All of this time there was a tugging in his heart as if it was sewn to
hers and it was being pulled to her, a strong thread that would not
stop its incessant movement to the south and to her heart.
He still does not know how she slipped away or if he drove her, she did
not resist and he did not plead that she return.
Then one day he spoke of her painting and then he could not
stop looking at her work, or stop being her arm that she painted with.
He could not stop being the other half of her heart. He no longer
could live without the part of his heart that was strong and good and
The heart of hers that was sewn to his as his twin, and tonight, just
tonight, he walked out to the mountainside and felt that she always saw
the same stars and that no matter what the future or their fortune was
to be, nothing could keep them apart. They were twins waiting to lock eyes for the first time and the dream would then be real.
Namaste, to all the lovers in the world. Miguel