The Thorn

I feel as if some kind of thorn got stuck into one of my fingers. I feel no pain, at times no discomfort, but whenever I notice that it is still stuck, the pressure is felt. I tend to forget that this “thorn” is still here, and that it hasn’t left its mild presence from my bloodstream. It is still caressing the blood that goes straight through my vibrant heart.

And I can feel when I am slightly touched and tricked. I can feel when this thorn plays with the shape of my finger and the way I skim my hair and neck. I notice when it plays with my senses and smiles back at me. It is ever present at night, when my attention goes to that which keeps the bittersweet flame alive in my heart, in my eyes.

Sometimes I play with it, with its particular beauty and amazing way of enchanting my whole body. Sometimes I tease the thorn, I caress it with great respect and feel fear of going any further. Such fear keeps me ignoring the way this thorn has taken me to madness. To folly, to passion, to an infamous love.

I think I would feel some kind of nostalgia if I where to pull it out of my body. This enchanting thorn has already shared with me many dance moves, drinks, laughs and stares. Maybe it is not letting go what hurts but realizing that nothing more could be done. At the end, isn’t it a simple thorn? or, should I simply push through once and for all with no fear nor respect. Just as the first kiss from when we were young, quick, spontaneous and frightening.

Never thought that a thorn could make me become so so confused.

Jose Andres Arvide


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