I painted smiles to adorn my silence. With eyes tightly shut, I whispered secrets of enchantment, confessing to the moon and stars. And oh, how I danced like a mad soul, chasing the elusive pulse of love, even when reason deemed it unnecessary. But in your absence, my emotions grew feverish, aching for your touch. They ignited a rebellion within my reveries, setting passion ablaze amidst the shadows.

Each smile became a brushstroke, a vibrant hue against the canvas of solitude. I dipped my soul in laughter, hoping it would echo through the empty corridors of longing. The closed eyes were not mere barriers; they were gateways to realms where our souls intertwined, where kisses tasted like stardust and whispered promises lingered like morning dew.
And the madness—the beautiful, reckless madness—swept me away. I pirouetted on the edge of sanity, my heartstrings strummed by invisible hands. Love, that elusive wisp of gossamer, teased me with its fleeting touch. It was a dance of contradictions: both desperate and serene, both wild and tender.

But then, the void. Your absence, like a missing note in a symphony, left me hollow. The pulse of love, once a steady rhythm, faltered. It became an ache, a hunger gnawing at my core. I traced the contours of memories, seeking solace in the ghostly imprints you left behind. The moon, my confidante, witnessed my unraveling—the way I clung to echoes, the way I whispered your name into the night.

And so, passion became my rebellion. It surged through my veins, demanding recognition. I painted verses on the walls of longing, hoping they would reach you across the vast expanse. I wove dreams like fragile tapestries, stitching together moments we never had, yet yearned for. In the quietude of midnight, I became a poet of longing, a troubadour of desire.

Perhaps it’s silly—the way my heart insists on beating, even when you’re miles away. But love defies reason, doesn’t it? It laughs at practicality, pirouettes on the precipice of sanity. So, I’ll keep my smiles, my closed eyes, my mad dance. I’ll keep them all, because they are my homage to you—the absent muse who colors my world with shades of longing.

And when the night sky weaves its constellations, know that each star holds a fragment of my heart, stitched with threads of hope. For in this silent symphony, where love and absence waltz, I find solace—a fragile sanctuary where our souls entwine, even across the chasm of distance.

©️ Beatriz Esmer