Relatos de Ficción

I wanted to write about my blue man but I can’t put that man into words. Maybe because he didn’t speak at all. That man made love, not conversation.

The ocean might have him now, or a blue woman, from the same blue planet. Free and destructive, intense and unpredictable, loving and fast. Fast loving.

My colourful boy, I cannot tell your story because no one knew it. You never told anyone who you were. Who are you now?

Are you sailing around the world or drunk at the pub? Is it still blue? Your heart.