Gabriel Berm
My soul
In your hands is
Come and kiss me just once
Hinder not my love
Enlighten my life with your brown eyes
Love me like you love a shooting star
Look at me like I’m the one
Expel me from your life if none of that has a chance
I see you, and I feel you
You talk and with that, I lose my breath
Your life gives me aid
The words you said
They leave traces
and now I’m scared
I did not believe
That a chance with you I had
When indeed I didn’t have
My soul cries for a kiss
For a caress or for a verse
I get lost in your gorgeous eyes
As a tiny particle
In this broad universe
Unable to express to you
How exhausted I am to love you
Each tear bursts into a thousand pieces
Alluding to what my heart feels
Your coveted heart
Worth of being stolen
Stolen by the vilest of thieves
Who has gone ahead of me
And before me, took it
Leaving mine
Quite shattered
© Gabriel Berm
Lingering in this comfortable but lethal silence gives me enough time to think about everything we could have been if my luck had been different…
In this silence lie my thoughts and desires. This silence is equal to the silence you gave me in response to the infinite love that I gave you. Lingering in this comfortable but lethal silence gives me enough time to think about everything we could have been if my luck had been different, all the fictional situations that will never happen, all the kisses I dreamed of, this silence invokes you to torment my mind and shake my already wounded feelings. When I think about you every fragment of my body is terrified, my thoughts and body alert me of imminent danger. You carry with yourself utter grief and absence of love. My heart slows its beats to go unnoticed, so you don’t retake it. My apparent calm breathing, false facial expressions, are all I have when the tiniest memory of your existence drills into my thoughts. My tears tell me that they are about to burst into a profound and sincere lament. But just by looking into your eyes all the security protocols in my body disappear, and I fall back into your dark tentacles that drag me into the depths of a mysterious abyss loaded with terror and agony. With each fake smile of yours, my body becomes unsteady, and I begin to lose my balance. My nerves are altered and start to move incessantly, revealing my weakness to your hypnotizing and evil powers. Losing all trace of serenity when I’m in your presence. When you leave, my entire being suffers a devastating catastrophe, everything is destroyed, you have looted all the love and stored it in your impenetrable vaults. Once again I have to rebuild everything, one memory at a time.
© Gabriel Berm
Imagining that you would return to kiss me and I would feel those lips that were the closest form of perfection ever experienced.
That moment, that precise moment in which little by little our eyes start to open after the long dream of love. Only that countless times it hurts while opening them. Tho to many people it happens in a snap, to others, it is a much more tortuous process. Apparently, the grace to finally awake from the dream of love, full of arranged lies, contaminated kisses and rehearsed hugs, at the end has to hurt. At least you have to experience some pain, a little or a lot, that is irrelevant, but it must hurt. To see that person whom I believed to be perfect and in spite of seeing her entirely in a physical way, or why not, perfect in general, that pain in your chest that increases in quantity and strength with each heartbeat. To see from another point of view the stage where everything ended and to think that what I could have done while every tear slides down the cheeks as a growing pain penetrates the deepest of my feelings. Remember all those moments of joy and not be able to avoid wanting to repeat them, remember the day we met and feel how much in love you used to be. Feel like the world falls piece by piece to the compass of every minute passing away from it. Create a feeling of happiness and consolation to believe that ending it was for the best when my heart does not cease to shout for it to return and in the form of protest the eyes begin to shed tears by someone who will never return. Many wish to forget, but sometimes it is better to remember without feeling that sensation of agony that annihilates every trace of delight and happiness. To lie down in bed and remember the happiest day of the relationship and wish for it to last forever. Noticing how everyone laughs with ease and I don’t stop thinking about that person who made every day, night, week and month worth living for. Looking at the calendar and fix the look on our anniversary, without being able to avoid many other tears pour. Sleeping every day knowing that I won’t receive a “good morning” message when I wake up and get home without waiting for a call asking about my day. Listening to songs that once seemed to describe that particular person and now they are nothing but lyrics with a rhythm that burst in the heart and pierces it like thorns. To see those photographs that we took together and to know that they’re nothing but a testimony of what we used to have, that instead of provoking a smile those photos cause a persistent pain, a feeling of anguish and solitude. Imagining that you would return to kiss me and I would feel those lips that were the closest form of perfection ever experienced. Remembering those eyes that exhibit a soul that seemed to match with mine. Wanting to forget all of that to stop suffering, to exterminate all memories of her and as if nothing had happened to see how the heart starts to function in a fully natural way. To hope that our paths have never been intertwined in order prevent all this affliction, to forget every kiss, every caress, every hug and every word. But sometimes we want things, but they’re not always what actually favors us, and life will not intervene for us. Having to face the pain, the misfortune, the sadness and every tear until there comes the point where she is just someone else across the store, and there, right there, I’ll be entirely happy. Maybe eventually someone else will come into my life to whom I will have to recite all these words while my voice breaks and everything starts again.
© Gabriel Berm
I felt the heat of a thousand suns when I heard her frail voice…
And there she was, sat a few feet away from me, with those deep brown eyes and her characteristic charming smile. So close that I could swear I was able to smell her perfume. So close but incalculably far away, almost unreachable. Her beauty trapped me immediately, I was able to see in her what others couldn’t. My eyes placed over her but my mind rambled for the great and poorly explored valley of love. I was able to feel my heart beating harder and longer with every second. Being completely lost, she turned her head, and when she saw me our eyes met, I felt how my heart stopped for a few moments because I wasn’t able to handle her grace. That profound and sincere sight, that she owns is just marvelous. Every inch of my body shouted to go after her. As I was getting closer, slowly and carefully with the idea not to make a wrong impression, I’m astonished because each step I made towards her, the more beautiful she looked, I felt the heat of a thousand suns when I heard her frail voice. Now I could really smell her perfume, but even though I was just a few feet away from her, we were unimaginably far away. I could fill a book with everything that passed through my mind the moment I saw her. We were talking for few minutes, I couldn’t believe it. Marveled by her, I leave with a feeling that a lot of people say they’ve felt, but just a few really have. Simply by imagining her, instantly makes my heart beats stronger and I get lost in memories that will never happen.
© Gabriel Berm
Losing myself with every inch of your body and every millimeter of your existence, feeling as my soul was renewed quickly and gently.
When I look at those beautiful eyes that once looked at me too, with that innocent look of the two of us, getting lost in the beauty of your figure and the depth of your eyes. Your face, an incredible and beautiful masterpiece capable of competing with great artistic pieces by great Renaissance artists. That smile that illuminated the entire place while showing honesty in it. Holding your hands and looking into your eyes I told you how much I loved you, with that dim light that only gave the environment a feeling of incalculable purity. Seated at ground level, alone, each one of us lost in the thoughts and desires of the other, then it begins to build an atmosphere of absolute happiness, without double meaning, without hope of any kind, only the thoughts and longings of the other submerged in the waters of what is popularly known as love. Losing myself with every inch of your body and every millimeter of your existence, feeling as my soul was renewed quickly and gently. This moment was concluded with a kiss which creates a discharge of all those emotions and feeling enchanted by this, all of this creates a moment worth treasuring.
© Gabriel Berm
“Those incredibly beautiful hypnotizing eyes are as beautiful as the one who bears them.”
A wave of strangely familiar sensations overwhelms me repeatedly during the day, just when I think of you. That kiss, which was nothing else than just fun for you, it also was just for fun me at the beginning, but, it was as if a connection had been created, it’s difficult to explain, it was not supposed to affect me so much, that kiss only happened once, a little kiss lost in time. But I think of you often, most of the times without intending to do it, I only think of that moment, how I would love to have extended it longer, to have a deeper memory and preserve that moment forever. Those incredibly beautiful hypnotizing eyes are as beautiful as the one who bears them. A silky and indisputably beautiful hair. Touching your skin could send anyone into an ecstasy of happiness. Those astonishingly ordinary lips are the finest lips I’ve ever seen. A combination of inner and outer beauty, make an average but at the same time precious woman. All this being no more than a mirage, a false oasis in the middle of a hot desert, it is incredible how something could be seen so real without being it. It’s evident that for you I am nothing more than a simple grain of sand, perhaps not so simple, I am probably a grain of sand that stands out a little from the rest, but in the end, I am still a grain of sand. A bit toxic and dangerous, an overdose of yours would be, nevertheless I keep walking towards an endless abyss full of mirages, you being the most real of them all. I move, and I see you, more and more real, but increasingly far away. Grim destiny, living from the water of mirages in the middle of the desert, a desert that evaporates the water so fast that it can’t even touch the sand. Maybe you are not a mirage that I alone can see it, plausibly someone else shares this illusion with me, only that he is possibly closer, only that this depends on the Mirage itself.
© Gabriel Berm
it hurts me that I can not show you my love in its entirety because that requires you to feel the same…
When I see you, my words become numb, and I can not avoid seeing you in the eyes, thinking that maybe in some parallel universe with its myriad possibilities, we are together. A universe in which a sequence of events have occurred perfectly that led to the love of my parallel self-being reciprocated by your parallel you, even there’s a possibility that your parallel self, had fallen in love with my parallel self and it was unrequited. Obviously, these are just ramblings of a poor man with nothing more than that, the imagination. Because the truth is that while it hurts like a cut of the sword of Damocles, you do not love me. I could spend every day and night repeating it myself to convince me that this does not affect me, that when you see me, you don’t know what I see in you, knowing that I have no choice but to imagine parallel universes to appease the pain of my heart. Wasting myself in an ocean of tears that, though vast, is not as great as the ocean of grace in which I get lost when I am with you. None of this helps, none of this has an end, they are just useless attempts to achieve an impossible goal. There is an appeal to the unknown, and the impossible, the fuel of this attraction is hope, although my rational self, accepts and understands flawlessly the reason why you do not love me, my irrational self, keeps alive the hope that someday I’ll get to know how being loved back feels like. The idea that there are parallel universes is widely debated in the scientific community, but I prefer to believe that it is true, that way I can close my eyes and imagine a future with you without feeling that I am lying. To imagine kissing your forehead at night and seeing your face when I wake up is part of my daily routine, lifts my deepest feelings. I think that love does not follow a natural cycle, that’s why God is often associated with love because love is timeless, love exists since we have memory, love is not passionate kissing or mere sex, although it is true that both can have “love” are not “love” by themselves. I love you, and I have never touched more than your hands, I firmly maintain that when you love a person so much that the desire is not physical but rather something indefinable is when you go from “liking” or “wanting” to “love”, seeing you ten minutes makes me happier than being with 15 women for six hours. That’s what hurts me, it hurts me that I can not show you my love in its entirety because that requires you to feel the same. Though in the present it hurts when I do something in order to like you, and it does not succeed, deep down what hurts me is that you can not see what I have for you, or maybe you do see it but you just don’t want it in your life or simpler, you just don’t love me. I hurt myself when I write about you or when I think of what can not be, but I have to admit that by the mere fact that my heart vibrates when I see you, I will go through any pain.
© Gabriel Berm
“…what went wrong and what could be worse.”
The Champernowne constant is an irrational number which has an interesting feature, contains everything. Everything? Yes, everything; but how? And what is everything? After a not very complicated but long explanation it is concluded that by substituting numbers by letters, one could eventually find the whole Don Quixote, not only Don Quixote but all the books that have existed and will exist, all words ever said and never told. The greatest secrets of humanity, the last words of Amelia Earhart and the first words of Jesus. But instantly I learned the potential of this little-known number I could not help thinking that somewhere in this figure are the exact words that would melt your heart and even, there are step-by-step instructions on how to seize your lips. The mere fact of knowing that within such an irrational number —as my love for you— is the “I love you” that my heart desires for, it gives me a feeling of frustration and harmony (if that is even humanly possible). All that we never were and never will be, all the words I told you and you did not hear, all the unrequited “I love you”, the kisses we never granted each other and it is evident they will never happen, the thoughts that go through my mind when I see your eyes, the feeling of holding your hand, the exact number of tears that we would pour together for a common cause, the desires of your heart and mine, the places we would visit, the date and location of our wedding, our house’s measurements in square feet, my time of death and yours, what went wrong and what could be worse, all this imprisoned in C10 = 0.12345678910111213141516… Who would say that our love would be confined to an infinity of decimals?
© Gabriel Berm
“…those big brown eyes that could turn the most fierce atheist into a Christian.”
I saw her on the line in an airport, and I just couldn’t keep my eyes away from her, she was just stunning. A red shirt with a square pattern, a pair of jeans with boots as high as her knee, all these clothes covering a delicate skin, her face was just beautiful, with a tiny nose, pale lips and some freckles. She was jaw-dropping, while I was doing the line I tried to know more about her Where was she from? What was her name? But I didn’t succeed. I’m sure she noticed my interest, but either she disliked me, or she didn’t have time to speak. Once she left the line, I thought that would be the last time I would see her -probably- ever in my life, but no, her seat was just in front of mine on the airplane, she was accompanied by a senior man who I believe was her grandfather. They both had a red passport, but I couldn’t see where was it from. She sat on the window seat, and throughout the three-hour-long flight, I could see for a couple of seconds her eyes, those big brown eyes that could turn the most fierce atheist into a Christian. I couldn’t listen to her voice as much as I would like to, but when I did, it felt like the most charming of voices, one of those voices that can read the phonebook and still sound profoundly moving. She was less than two feet away from me, and I wasn’t able to say a single word. The hours with nothing but a plane seat between us and I could n’t tell. What would a simple “hello” do? She was going to Ecuador or some other country in South America, and I was going home, could something come out from this? Even if we didn’t say a word to each other throughout the flight, we said everything with our bodies; nothing could ever work out, different countries, different cultures but the same heartbeats. Once the plane landed, I gave her and her grandfather my place in the line to exit the aircraft; we met at a line, and we were separated at another one.
© Gabriel Berm
Gabriel Berm 