The number 4

-Oneshot-

You approached me at night while no one was watching and everyone slept in a peace that can only be admired by those who do not sleep during the day.

I wrote a long poem that they told me to do in punishment of my attitude, my eyelids closed by themselves and my hand did not move no matter how much I tried to move it, the same thing always happened to me, because of my dream and my desires to continue dreaming I never finished admiring the moon and as if it were worse I did not finish my punishments and work. Everyone thinks that crown princes or noble children do not rest and are the most robust, and unfortunately I am neither robust nor wise that's why I allow myself to sleep,

Even if the next day I face the consequences..

I wasn't like that..

What made me so careless?..

In the spring I sat under the cherry trees and picked up the petals that fell, when I caressed them I felt their delicacy, soft texture and their beautiful pink color, I loved cherry trees, they were an art that no man could admire for their wild attitude, if they only sat under a tree for a minute they would realize what they are missing out of ignorance.

Whenever I wrote a haiku about the cherry trees I suddenly got stuck in the last stanza, I never managed to finish it, it was as if my hand stopped and didn't allow me to write more as if I stopped ruining that haiku.

At night there is not much that I can admire I simply see the useless drunk guards and men betting all the money they do not have, in turn there are women declaiming poems with a voice and smile more forced than mine, poor women, sometimes I think that when I see them doing things that they clearly do not want to do.

That same night I could see a man dressed in colors like white and pink, his lips were red like the leaves of autumn, his cheeks were soft and beautiful like peach color, his hair was short, black like the night itself and his eyes..

Every time I remember them I melt and lose control of my thinking, his eyes were like the blue sea a stone that is worth more than millions and at the same time a reason to stay in this moment, his movements were delicate like the petal of a cherry tree, his voice could melt my ears like a candle at night, his daring poems and flattering words were attracted me even more to him, I didn't even know his name but with my heart in my hand, I didn't need anything else, I wasn't going to hesitate for a second.

The day I spoke to that sweet man will be considered the best day of my entire wasted life, as soon as I established a relationship between him and me I could feel the same forces that a barbarian felt in the war, I felt with more confidence and more freedom, finally I had a complete reason to continue with my days and nights, especially the nights, the time in which I can see his face and touch his delicacy with my hands, the moment in which I forget that I have to face lords and old enemies for my freedom, the The moment in which I sink is his eyes and I leave my totality in his hands.

The little hiding place I took him to show him my haikus and my poems was in a cherry forest, so that he could see the incredible resemblance he had with the beautiful pink cherry trees, as soon as he knew that my haikus were incomplete he completed them and put the number 4 as a signature, I asked him Why the 4? You know what it means, right? He nodded and looked at me with that usual defiant look, and told me "Number 4 is bad luck, but we will turn it into good luck, so that no one steals that good luck from us." And since that day the number four is written in all my poems, it is each of them, because that way I can remember him and his beauty.

Like a badly formed dream he moved away from my arms to be able to live better, life that not even he could see, he could not even see his new dawn, I saw him without him, in my arms his cold body and in my heart my shattered feelings, they took away my short life of 4 years, those 4 years that I lived with him were the only years in which the word "live" really meant something to me, and since that day I hate number 4 for attracting what I never want for my beloved:

Death.

Maybe that's the real reason why I don't finish my poems, because there is no one to finish them, and I'll never let anyone else finish them if it's not you.