Fabio,
You came to me first like music.
You charmed me with your dance,
because you moved like nobody else ever could,
as if your body already knew
a freedom I had forgotten.
You charmed me with your singing,
with that “y qué pasó con tu amor”
that stayed inside me
long after the song was over.
You charmed me with your hugs,
with your beautiful eyes,
with the tenderness that reached me
at a time when I had already closed
the doors of my heart to love.
And then you made me believe again.
You made me believe
that love could still enter my life,
that even a guarded heart
could open like a window to spring,
that even after old disappointments
someone could arrive
and make the world feel golden again.
And I gave you
the best I had to give.
I gave you my loyalty,
my care,
my softness,
my forgiveness.
I swallowed my pride
more times than I should have,
when you broke up with me
again and again,
when you chose other men,
when you wounded me
in ways I never thought
love was meant to wound.
Even after you hit me,
I chose to forgive,
because I still believed
that this harsh and difficult highway of pain
would lead us somewhere softer,
somewhere brighter,
to the other side,
where we would begin again
and write our story
in a new book,
with more peace,
more wisdom,
more happiness.
I told myself
maybe Norway was not our place,
maybe Arabia was too hard,
maybe life had simply placed us
in the wrong landscape,
and that in another city,
under another sky,
if we both wanted it enough,
love could still live.
But now it comes to my understanding
that you have closed your heart to me
for good.
Three months have passed
since 23 March,
since the break,
since the fracture,
and still I feel
the same strength of love,
the same care,
the same empathy for you.
I have not stopped loving you.
I have only begun to understand
that the road ahead for me
will be longer,
lonelier,
and more difficult
than I ever wanted it to be.
And now I feel
that my own heart
has grown quiet before love.
I do not know anymore
if I believe in gay love
the way I once did.
I only know
that what I felt with you
was real,
and that what broke in me
was real too.
I know at least
that we both love Bella,
because she is pure
in the way only innocence can be,
and because in her
there is no betrayal,
no pride,
no war,
only love that runs to meet you
with open eyes.
I dreamed for so long
that time might soften us,
that friendship might rise again,
and maybe one day,
in another place,
a new chapter of romance
might open where the old one closed.
But I feel
you have departed that station.
Still,
I will forever be grateful
for the good and beautiful memories:
for our travels,
for the laughter,
for the tenderness,
for the night in New York
when we got engaged,
for the many places
where life felt lighter
because we were in it together.
And the painful moments,
the toxic moments,
I choose now to remember
only as lessons.
They showed me
where our incompatibilities lived.
They might have been worked t
