If it's not by your hands on my neck, I don't wanna choke.
Does my little me bewitch someone like you?
It embarrasses me now,
it actually makes me cringe if I think about it.
The fact that I was so devoted to you,
that you could have molded me into anything you desired,
asked anything of me,
had me on my knees for you,
grabbed my hair,
choked me,
broke my arm,
or pulled my legs or all of my strings.
There was a moment that I didn't have a will of my own,
but you were my will.
Yes, it is embarrassing,
was it love?
Was my perception of my love for you so mistaken?
Or was it more like a dog,
like a slave to his master,
I don't know.
But what I do know,
is that I will never want to feel like that again,
so powerless in my own actions,
so little,
so nothing.
I've been waiting for you to call my name, only God knows how long I've been waiting. Even when the sounds stop buzzing in my ear and the sun goes down, I still feel like listening to your voice.
I cast a spell far away from the places where we have been, so nothing will remain — not a picture of you or me, none to speak about each other. Only the moon will remember stares that we shared.
But in these nights of lonely bliss, I still wait for you to come to me. So come.
Me vendiste tus pecados como errores,
mientras yo susurraba plegarias en tu nombre,
queriendo creerte tan inocente,
figurabas en una lista como el primer culpable.
El sol era mi enemigo,
y tu te regocijabas bailando en sus rayos,
desde las sombras te ignoraba,
pero venías por mi,
jalándome más hacia ti,
dejándote consumir por el frio de mis manos.
El deseo era solo tu excusa para abusar de mi paciencia,
para culparme por palabras dichas,
por actos cometidos sin segundas intenciones.
Pero te pregunto,
a pesar de todas las que buscas,
de todas las que quieres,
¿por qué sigues durmiendo solo?
Sitting by the shore, watching the hurricane,
It had to decide whether to descend or rise,
Whether to swim or remain still.
There was no full moon,
And the wind scattered its tears across the sand,
Painfully touching its shoulder,
Screaming in its ear to run.
Breathing became difficult—shallow and fast.
It tried to fill its broken lungs through its mouth,
But ashes gathered in its throat,
Like a whirl of black dust.
Anguish, invisible and violent,
Pounded its chest and nestled behind its eyes.
How lucky are those who do not fly,
How lucky are those who do not remember.
And night after night,
Step by step,
It drowns its demons
In flames of sighs.