Well You Know I Nearly Broke Down And Cried

She was younger than me, and I met her in a garage punk concert. I was having a smoke when she appeared out of nowhere and asked me for a cigarette lighter. Her scent drove me wild. Her eyes gleamed like a crazy star in the darkness of El Foro Alicia. 

We started to talk a few minutes later, when I wanted to have another smoke and I was convinced that she had lost my cigarette lighter. She denied it, and I focused on her lips. They looked so fleshy. A silly question crossed my mind: What if I kiss her?

I told her that I found her pretty, and that she smelled like a strange plant. She asked what kind of plant, and I just said something like a water lily. She smiled. At the time, I was a little bit drunk. Do not know why, but I imagined that we could end up kissing. 

Silencios Incómodos were about to perform that night, and I told her that I knew their new album. They were releasing it that night and they will perform it that night. I really knew it, since my brother was friend of the guys of the band, but she thought I just wanted to impress her. She told me her favorite band was Black Sabbath, and started to whisper Iron Man in my ear.

We kissed as the band played Detrás De La Tormenta, my favorite song of the album. Her lips were soft and I thought she had and expertise in kissing. Maybe I was too drunk. 

Suddenly, her dad called her on the cell phone. He was waiting for her to take her home. She said "Good Bye" and gave me her cell phone number, in case I wanted to call her someday.  Never thought I would, but I did it a few days later. 

We went out several times. Each time I liked her more and more, but I also felt more and more guilty. It was really stupid, but I hated it to be older than her. She said she didn't care. Eventually, she got tired. 

I'm listening Abbey Road, even though I don't like The Beatles at all, and I can't stop thinking of her. I miss her a lot. 

This Is Not About Love

What was that? What was that you had that drove me wild? 

Though it happened too many years ago, I still think of you once in a while. We shared a few memories but they were so intense. At least, I think so. 

I still remember the madness of meeting you. 

Out of the blue, while I was bored and sad, when Silencios Incómodos were about to play, you approached to me and you asked me if I could light you up a cigarette. 

I was smoking and I gave you my Zippo and then you lighted your cigarette. Meaningless seconds elapsed and you returned it to me.

A few songs later I wanted to light another cigarette, but I couldn't find the Zippo. 
I thought you had kept it for mistake -I was a little bit drunk- and I looked for you.
When I found you, I asked you for the Zippo. 

Then I saw you in detail, under the dim lights of Foro Alicia. 
Dunno why -maybe I was drunker than I thought-, but I liked you a lot. 

As your closed eyelids reveal some kind of devotion, your lips tasted like youth.

They were soaked in alcohol and they were simultaneously tender and aggressive. 

A week later, we met in a park. 

Honestly, I didn't like you under the daylight. 

I felt abusive and stupid. 

You were several years younger than me!

We talked on the telephone for several months.

I got used to your voice. Guess I knew you and got interested on you, in this way. 

Sometimes you were the only person I heard all day long. 

I remember smoking pot one night and thinking about you. 

I was listening to Fiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine. 

I started to read a letter that you had written to me. 

It turned out to be one of the funniest experiences I ever had. 

Your words where so innocent and reflective at the same time. 

It seemed that you were just playing the fool. 

On that letter you said that one night before you were about to sleep. 

You were brushing your hair in front of the mirror and then you felt excited for an unknown reason. Then you took away your shirt and started to look your naked breast. 

You said that I could see your breast, though we were not closer friends. You wanted me to ask you to be my girlfriend. 

As the piano sounded on my bedroom and Fiona sang This Is Not About Love, I become obsessed with your breast. 

Had it been necessary that you had specified on the letter that you were wearing 36-B bras...?

Sometimes you were so direct and I was so stupid.

I used to feel terribly guilty.  

Another night we went to a bar to drink a beer.

We sit face to face. 

You wore a blouse with a neckline. 

The blouse was green and the neckline was amazing. 

I drank beer after beer. It was impossible to not sink into the abyss of your breast. 

Nonetheless, sometimes you were so cruel. 

I guess you got tired.

You were willing to do what I wanted, but I did not do anything. 

You said that I was too polite and too respectful and too different from the guys you used to hang out with, but you also incessantly said that I was a real bad kisser. 

I guess you just said so to provoke me. 

You wanted me to be a little bit disrespectful, but you got bored of my endlessly politeness and then you started to hate me and then you decided to ignore me. 

Our relationship finished. 

It was easy for you to broke with me, even though you were not exactly my girlfriend. 

They were another guys interested on you. 

Immediately, I felt so ill and I tried to write about you.

It was too recent and everything I wrote sucked. 

I started to care a lot about you. I wanted you to be my girlfriend.  

I wanted so bad to be with you, but you just rejected me. 

All the songs I heard were about losers and guys in love with wrong people. 

Each time I heard Extraordinary Machine, I felt so sick. 

I wanted to threw up. I wanted to stay in bed all day long. 

I thought you deserved more than words. 

Now I can write about it. 

[This Is Not About Love-Fiona Apple]