Escenas y Diálogos (6): Love Letters to the Dead 1

¡Hola! El día de hoy, he decidido traerles frases de un libro que a mí me encantó y en el cual encontré muchísimas frases lindas. Por este motivo, haré dos partes de Escenas y Diálogos de Love Letters to the Dead.
Por cierto, quise dejar las frases en inglés porque comencé a traducirlas y no me gustaron nada.
Espero que les gusten y las disfruten.

Sección que creó el blog Paradise Of Words, que consiste en escribir las escenas y diálogos que te gustaron de un libro que leíste.
       * Esta sección puede tener spoilers *

  There are some things that I can’t tell anyone, except the people who aren’t here anymore.

  We were all on our own islands.

 It felt like fireflies lighting under my skin. The thing is, when I looked back up, Sky was still looking. His eyes were like your voice –keys to a place in me  that could burst open.

  I am looking out the window now in her cold house, from under the rose quilt, to find the first star.

  “Because of love, of course. The more you love something, the hardest it is to lose.”

 I raised up my hand before I could even think about it. “I think it’s like when you lose something so close to you, it’s like losing yourself. That’s why at the end, it’s hard for her to write even. She can hardly remember how. Because she barely knows what she is anymore.”

 I know May’s dead. I mean, I know it in my head, but it doesn’t seem real. I still feel link she’s here, with me somehow.

  I forgot to be scared. I was thinking about how each one of them, so small from high up, was like their own island, with secret forests and hidden thoughts.

  “Ok,” Sky said. “Maybe I’ll se you around.”

I nodded and walked away, my heart pounding. I told myself not to turn around. But I did. And his eyes were still on me. I felt something spark –the mystery of what he saw when he looked at me.

  But life isn’t like that. You can’t be sure how it’s going to come out, even if you do everything right.

  Mom would say that the waves sound better than trains at night and better than rain and better than a crackling fire.

  So now, this is going to be my first dance. With Evan Friedman and his jagged red heart. It was supposed to be Sky.

  I think it reminds her of when the world seemed safe.

  He was quiet for another momento. “I guess I sort of want to be a writer now.” He glanced at me. “But it’s not like I’ve ever written anything. And that’s not something I tell most people.”

  He reached out and took my face in his hands. “You’re beauiful,” he whispered. I closed my eyes and let him pull me in. It was a perfect first kiss, like a gust of wind that swept through me, taking my breath away and letting me breathe again all at once. A kiss to come alive in.

  And your poem is like that, too. You died almost two hundred years ago, when you were only twenty-five. But the words that you left are still alive.

  I think a lot of people want to be someone, but we are scared that if we try, we won’t be as good as everyone imagined we could be.

  I was thinking about that, how high a balloon could fly before it popped, and what would look like from there.

  “Let me tell you something, Buttercrup,” he said. “There are two most important things in the world –being in danger, and being saved.”

  “Why do you think that’s the most profound thing for a person? It’s both at once. When we’re in love, we are both completely in danger and completely saved.”

 When he said that, it made sudden sense. “Thank you,” I said.