Comodo; executioner of a love. (First story written by me) Part 1

For a long time we have been told about princes; those handsome men on a noble steed, responsible for guiding and preserving the welfare of an entire people, those brave men who with a sword can subdue the fiercest of dragons, and be applauded for taking justice into their hands. They are the very ones who have all the qualities to charm and charm any maiden they desire, a humble, beautiful and obedient lady, who feels most fortunate to have been chosen by such a glorious high-class knight. Culture has been responsible for making us dream of and desire a tycoon of such caliber, and has designed us to be the female figure by his side, rather than as a complement; a companion.

However, today I will not talk about a monarch of that style, today I want to talk to you about that other type of man of power, the one who can appear at any moment and of whom little is said, the one who enjoys an armor and the finest garments of a fabric so soft and striking that he stands out from the rest almost immediately, and who possesses an enveloping and brilliant intellect, almost as if you were listening to a poet and a philosopher reciting a monologue, the one who seeks to stand out above the rest, someone who gets what he wants with more intelligence than cunning; today we are going to talk about emperors. About that figure of power capable of eclipsing, falling in love, captivating and possessing anyone. Who with a smile steals your happiness, and with a couple of words tears your soul apart.

Eccentric, egocentric, powerful and indestructible; Cómodo. Today I will expand your zone of greatness by dedicating to you the last words of my repertoire of letters. This is the compilation of all the letters that will not see your light, this is my farewell and my letter of persona non grata in my future and present. With this writing I banish you from what little is left of me for you. Your Imperial Majesty, without further ado, here begins my story, or rather, our story.

Cómodo, your arrival was written for a long time, like a snake waiting for something, you came and went, slithering everywhere, leaving a footprint and then leaving. Autumn came and there were no more leaves on the trees where you could hide, so you left your presence uncovered; bright, notorious and extroverted. It was a night in the ninth month when you came into my life; charming, humorous, eloquent and intellectual. You were there until the wee hours of the morning, when the night wears its darkest attire and the little garments around it shine the brightest, with your essence you enveloped me in so few hours. Cómodo, you were not an angel, for you lacked wings, but they were not necessary to feel that I was flying with you in tune. Cómodo, at what moment did I commit the folly of falling in love with you? At what instant did we become victims of our own frenzy?

I met you at the moment of your coronation, imposing, majestic and confident, the power overflowed from you along with the confidence to conquer the world if you wished, for many nights at the end of your day you talked to me, you explained to me your dreams, your tastes, your hobbies, what you did, what you didn't do, and I felt how little by little your shiny armor was falling off, letting me enter the most human part of you, together with it, you took off your little crown and showed me that you were like me, that I was like you, that we had more in common than you thought, it was a connection of greatness, of love, and of purity. I don't know in what instant you got into my skin, like a needle that heals, like blood in the vein that gives life, pity that all that was only the premonition of a disaster that not even nostradamus could foresee, that none of those around us could see.

Like any damsel conquered by a figure of greatness and honor, I had a dress forged of fears, doubts and insecurities, you extended your hand and gave me comforts; you took me to places I had never known; your world, your palace, and the warmth wrapped in your arms and in the softness of the fabric of the imperial costumes that you wore with so much pride. You allowed me to know my planet, my emotions; you opened a drawer of my soul and like a thief you took everything; I gave you everything, but it was a plagiarism without consequences because I gave you my permission. Cómodo, you could have any woman of equal power at your mercy, why choose me? What was so special about me? Cómodo, you offered me gold coins that ended up being sweets, all with the purpose of consuming, possessing and running away, together with a cup of lies that you toasted for me. You donned a robe of a confident and assured man, and at the end of our evening you were nothing more than a perjurer.

What do you think? Would you like the second part?

Thanks for reading, nice night or day!