Tua voz me chama sobre as águas onde os meus pés podem falhar. E ali Te encontro no mistério, em meio ao mar, confiarei. Ao Teu nome clamarei e além das ondas olharei. Se o mar crescer, somente em Ti descansarei. Pois eu sou Teu e Tu és meu!
Don't pester her, they said. And even more importantly don't be loud.
Seeing really is believing, even though I never believed that. Ha. If the stories about her didn't frighten you off the meeting would. She looked like a ghost. I was tall when we first met and she loomed over me. Stalky, stiff. A sort of dead tree. Her skin was translucent, and that in hand with her high cheek bones and dark eyes beckoned the sympathy of people who didn't know better. Poor invalid.
If only they knew.
I had met people like her before. People who were never impressed by you and who took gratification in watching you fail. It fed her. She lived off the shortcomings of her peers, and it wouldn't be as disturbing if she wasn't quite so brilliant. Every movement was calculated. Not very picturesque, but it was right. Where she lacked grace she had perseverance. And what's more sensual than passion?
When you watched her your skin would tingle. You could see her drive and even worse you could feel it. The adrenaline made you squirm, made your fingers tick uncomfortably. I don't want to think of what it would have been like to fight her.
Frankly she was unbearable. Easily agitated, with a temper unmatched by anyone I've ever met. Her ire was raw, and she had no sense of self control. She never smiled either, which paved the way for a very poignant anger. The only time she looked remotely happy was when she spoke of her lover. That wasn't often enough for anyone but on the rare occasion she looked relieved. She wasn't smiling, at least not from what I could tell. Except her shoulders would go slack and her fingers would loosen, kind of like she just started breathing. I hope I can meet him one day. I'm inclined to believe he's an angel.
Sometimes her humanity seeps through, that's why I stayed. If you didn't know what to look for you'd be running your head into the ground trying to figure out because she's so bad at communicating. But her habit of staring at you, or if she grazed you for a second longer than was necessary, that's how you knew.
You remembered how human she was in her fingers or her eyes, and there were times when she looked at you and suddenly you didn't want to be with anyone else. She wore gloves and covered her eyes, anything to inflate her sense of importance and mask the fact that she was just like the rest of us. It's really childish and naive, and I think she knows that. If she wasn't such a bitch it might have been cute.
She's my maestro. Err..maestra. And she probably hates me for it.
