LIMERENCE / LIMERENCIA
I will never know the scent of your chest
as I rest against it,
while you tell me stories of heartbreak,
nor will you share with me
the secrets of your deepest joys.
You won’t disappear during the day,
leaving space for us to be,
nor will I return at night with the fire lit.
We won’t dance naked
to celebrate life in August.
Idealizing you has been my longest limerence.
It’s consuming me.
You will remain—like a mark.
My psycho-hygienist has prescribed a symbolic act to help me heal:
To send you flowers, as the purest language of respect.
I send them to set myself free,
like a funeral hymn—
to honor the beauty of something
that never was, and never should have been:
the untouchable promise of a dream.
These flowers carry no pleas,
no hidden desires.
Do not place them in water.
Let them dry—
they are the symbol of this limerence
that needs to wither.
Let them turn to dust.
Please, don’t be afraid.
There will be no more.
I promise.
Let the cherubs fall in silence.
Let them take the red petals away.
Let the music fade.
Stay out of my dreams.
Let order return.
Let my heart rest
in the quiet hope
that other lives will come.
I will silence the weeping within me
in the name of other virtues.
I wish you a long, harmonious life
full of beauty
