Delfines

Do you remember the day we swam with dolphins? I do. The light was a lot like today. The air was able to kiss our skin. You were smiling and so was I. I clearly remember I just wanted to hold your hand and that nothing, regarding myself, mattered. I cannot believe how ill of me was it not to remember that day. Several months have passed and just about yesterday, this image came to me. Breaking into me as butterflies do into wind. I am glad to remember all these days of felicity and hope; when the water was warm and your skin was soft. And we would kiss underwater and I would open my eyes, just to see a blurry image of your pale face. And then you would make that gesture which I use to find utterly gracious. I would also try to tickle you, but you wouldn’t let me, though, you wouldn’t fight back neither; you were too generous. Back then, when your eyes didn’t lie and you wouldn’t leave me crying in the dust. We would each grab a dolphin and they would lift us all the way to the other side of the pool. We were scared of ending half-naked, of ending injured. At the end of the day, you would thank me and award me with a kiss of yours. I cannot count the number of secrets we shared those days, mines were certainly truthful, yours I won’t know it for sure. Now, I realize the magnitude of these actions of mine, the meaning of all that I wanted to share with you, and I sincerely hope you must find it elsewhere.