*

I'm leaving tomorrow. And I could choose to leave without going to one last milonga tonight. I could choose to do that but I won't. I could choose to leave without risking the chance of seeing you once before I go, of being ignored by you. Is this how it's going to go?

You'll come closer
and then not?

Will I
always
always
watch you from afar
sometimes
watching you watching me.

I could choose to stay.
I could choose to not go away for a few days.
I could choose to sit by all this time,
hoping I might catch a glimpse of you
hoping I own a thought of you.

I could choose to ignore
the gaping place in my heart.
I could choose to cry that you're going far.

But really
I think of you
as already being

away.

I could choose to wait
except I can't.

*

Every time we meet now,
it's strange,
but somehow,
when we part,
I always leave a little emptier.

I envy you
in your wholeness.

"It is truly cruel for your life to be so dependent on words or glances." - Tasos Leivaditis

“

later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

 

it answered 
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.

”

—

Warsan Shire I think today was the first time that I almost cried in anticipation for your departure. I hate how one moment there's intimacy between us and then it's like we're strangers. My mood was high and then you came and now it's so low I'm choking. I have other problems you know. Other little concerns that gnaw the inside of my mind. Fears and thoughts I never discuss with anybody. And all you ever do is choke me. I talk and smile And I feel as if I'm not breathing. Sometimes I feel as if I'm not even there. I miss you and you were never even there.

In so many ways yesterday night was nearly perfect. I danced with a man, with whom I had wanted to dance for a long time. I was tired and dizzy - I've fucked up my body again - but I was among friends and happy almost and the day included everything I wanted for that day to include.

Except you.

And then you'll leave and all this will be

 

 

over.

Overcome

  A subtle nod in my direction when noone is looking in as a silent compliment to my appearance. A look through a mirror that lasted more than a random one would have lasted until I drove my gaze elsewhere - I was afraid I'd see you avert your eyes first and that would hurt more. You got up and left afterwards. Your eyes following me when I dance milonga with someone else - I had been waiting for you to ask me you idiot.

  The truth is there is a part of me that aches with anticipation for your departure. Not because I don't want you as much as before, but because I feel that I've given you too much power over my emotions. We have not danced for two weeks and that makes my throat dry - you consume my heart, your presence sometimes is too overwhelming. Most of the time Sometimes I can't stand to be near you and her anymore. I want to get up and rush away from you, the presence of you both makes me feel like drowning.

 

Fragments of moments, of days.

I could already feel your absence like a thorn in my heart. Time is going by in a painfully high speed and I can feel every memory already slipping into oblivion. It was all so absolutely clear that it pained me and saddened me. I leaned on my friend's shoulder and whispered "El dolor, el dolor."

The pain, the pain.

*

I left because your presence or the lack of it drowned me and that scared me.

*

But I came back eventually, I needed a break to clear my head. Not sure that I managed that but it helped anyway.

*

When I think of how many days I won't have the chance to see him in August because I'll be away, my breath catches in my lungs and my heart pumps blood faster in my vains. I'm overcome with anxieties.

*

On the first day that I left I smoked over 20 cigarettes. I don't smoke though and after that I didn't smoke again. All the time I singed a tango that I love. 

Dame el humo de tu boca.
Anda, que así me vuelvo loca.
Corre que quiero enloquecer
de placer,
sintiendo ese calor
del humo embriagador
que acaba por prender
la llama ardiente del amor.

"I've told you already that I enjoy dancing milonga with you more than I do with her, right?"

  That's what you told me last time we met. You hadn't asked me to dance for some time and last week you pissed me off, declining and immediatelly asking someone else. You don't undersand how desperate I am to dance with you when I ask you to dance - that's why I try to stop. Because you can seek me out when you want to.

  But these few dances are the only thing I can have from you. You have a girlfriend, someone that I know. And you're leaving. You too are leaving. I'm counting the days until you leave. I try to find a way to miss as few opportunities as possible to see you until you leave.

  And the closer I get the more confused I get. There's a distance between the two of you already and there's a strange intimacy between us. You know me less than a year, you act closer to me than you do to other women in the party. I can sometimes feel the attraction between us, it takes my breath away.

  Yes, you have told me before that you enjoy dancing milongas with me more than you enjoy dancing them with her. You said you have no chemistry in the milonga. So I guess that means you have more chemistry with me. You said those two women were saying how beautifully we dance as we danced before them.

  I did not care. All I cared for was the pressure of your chest against mine, the warmness of your breath, your hand around the whole of my back (you don't always place it that far around), my hand on your back a bit higher than I usually place it (I tried to lower it but it always seemed to find its way up again so I just restrained it from climbing further back.)

  All I cared about was the sound of your hearbeat, or was it mine, or both, pounding between our chests. And I wished that milonga never had to stop.

  (By the way, you didnot have to tell her that you dance milonga with me better, or to tell her that that's the way to dance milonga. She is, after all, a much better dancer than me.)
  (I think we'll both end up burned by the flame we dance so close to).

Last night

  I was feeling annoyed suddenly. Restless. I wanted to get up and leave.
  So I got up and left. I said some rush excuse that I was going to meet a friend. Everyone dumbfounded. They were worried. You're leaving? Alone? At such an hour? The truth is I had spoken with a friend of mine but I never did go meet him.
  I strolled around the streets in my pretty dress and red lipstick and thought about Tony. I wanted to message him, see if he were in the area. It was 3 a.m. Maybe we could go for a drink. Maybe he could just take me home. Maybe he was sleeping and wouldn't see it at all. How would I know? I never sent the message.
  Damn, unfinished bussiness shouldn't sting so much.
  But the truth is, as I walked down the empty streets and ignored the catcalls and wished for a drink there was one question going around in my head.
  Could I please just fuck him once before he leaves?

You don't see someone for a long time and you dread the moment that you might see them

And then you see them and you mind basically goes ahjdfakjlfgiewughqerkjhf and then blank.

I'm in a weird situation. For months now I've been in love with this guy who has a girlfriend and who's getting way close to me (that is, considering the amount of time we've been talking) and who I think is interested in me but won't do anything because he has a girlfriend.

And he's leaving. In a couple of months. To study abroad.

Deja vu much?

He's been asking me lately why I've been dressing up more at tango. Last time he was pretty insistent even though I was talking with a friend until I turned around and calmly looked him in the eye and said "It's none of your business," and turned my back to him.

And yesterday I was at a milonga and I was dancing and suddenly I open my eyes and there is Tony, few meters away, chatting with the woman he was dancing. And I think for a moment I really did lose my capacity to think.

It wasn't until a couple of dances later that I brought my self to wave at him - I don't think he had seen me until then.

And after that I lost him in the crowd.

And he messaged me today. And for a moment I couldn't breathe.

I knew that feeling the moment I felt it.

It's called unfinished business.

Oh fuck me.