De la imposibilidad de verle a los ojos...

Disculpe que no le rinda pleitesía. Disculpe el modesto saludo, el incómodo momento, la insoportable distracción. Disculpe por mi falta de respeto a su belleza, por no adorar sus sonrisas, por no elevar su emoción.

Siento no mirarle con el terrible deseo que el mundo siente por usted, siento no buscar sus manos, siento que su belleza no sea ni luz ni resplandor.

Y es que no puedo mirarle a los ojos sin que se me parta el corazón. Es que he visto esa mirada antes, es que esa sonrisa ha llenado tantos momentos y el perfume de su pelo tiene ese momento embriagador de algo que ya pasó. Es que en el delicado tacto de su mano vive la fuerza para mover al mundo, es que esa fuerza se llevó lo que soy.

No lo tome a mal que no es usted. Esa fuerza es fantasía, ese perfume es delirante, esa sonrisa es ilusión. Esa mirada es una bomba de tiempo. En esa mirada hay algo que ya ocurrió.

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