Jealousy

I didn’t ask 

Not because I was afraid he could lie

Whatever it was 

I don’t even have how to prove 

If it was true 

Or if it was untrue 

I didn’t ask

Because I was afraid 

Afraid what I was wondering was true

And he would took the courage 

To tell me he was seeing someone 

That he had moved on

And I was nothing

But another one

LearnIng how to be a heartless being

It was an oversight

A memory lapse

A failed act

There was no reason 

Consciousness

Or purpose 

I just forgot my heart there, with him

Didn't realize till I needed it back

Till started hurting

(Yeah, I had forgotten also that love hurts)

Till I figured out I couldn't control its beats anymore

I can't blame him

He hadn't ask for it

He haven't stole it

He might even haven't noticed I left it there

It's not his fault

I didn't give him as gift

Or left it there, at the center of the table to be found

I don't even remember exactly when and where I left it

All I know is that when I was back I was missing it 

I must have forgotten it there, with him

And I want to ask him to bring me back

Because I miss him 

Because this absence of him hurts

Because I'm afraid I won't see him anymore

And I'm afraid to ask him to bring it back me

I don't want him to know that I let my defenses down

I don't want him to see how little is my heart

I don't want him to know how cold and hard I can be

Maybe I should just let it go

Start to get used to live without him 

Learn how to be a heartless being

After all, who needs a heart when you are so afraid to love?

Foi um leitura longa, demorada, pausada, eu diria até interrompida.
Interrompida pela tua ausência se fazendo presente toda vez que a palavra falta no texto aparecia.
Interrompida pela lembrança de ter você em meus braços toda a vez que a palavra juntos era lida.
Interrompida por um sorriso bobo toda vez que as palavras amor, felicidade e suas correlatas saltavam entre as linhas.
Interrompida por longos suspiros quando as palavras longe e distante se infiltravam nas frases escritas.
E ao final da leitura, um livro curto e intenso de final positivo e esperançoso, quis te escrever: "Como é bom sentir saudades de você"; assim mesmo, em bom português.
Mas você não iria entender. Não é uma questão de tradução. Sentimentos não se traduzem em palavras, e você nem fala a minha língua...