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Solitary ManHe, of laminated paper; she, full of lucid emotions, finally clearer and sincere.
But among them stands a figure that breaks the protocol.
He enters her thoughts and sullies his privacy to find out that she is dominated by an authentic passion for life, which flows in the veins mixed with blood, giving strength to his artistic soul.
He has no specific age. It comes from the kingdom where nobody dies.
Sometimes feel that he is dying alive, and his only hope is the death.
He calls the living dead his friends, and calls the living, his executioners.
How many times when laugh also cries... His soul cries when her face laughs.
You are always, when I close my eyes, when I open the window, you are the image in the palm of my hands, what people see in my eyes.
You are what you are not with anyone, literary night, pulsation of death, ridiculous promise and love.
She: A black line extends her eyes ... Blurs the gray pencil, trying to make them even more beautiful. White teeth taste like mint. A
Heartache Every MomentI had never seen eyes so naive. That soft mouth, of pastel color, that velvety skin ... everything in her looks fragile but perfect.
A star on top of another, never a calculable amount, a passion for you, about a passion for you.
Breathing with your gazes, your eyes, your heart. It was stupid to be so focused on one person, and I knew it.
A strange sensation at see you, you're looking in the wrong direction. And as if guided by a divine hand, for the sweet push of destiny, turn your gaze to me.
Everyone knows the beauty of your eyes, and you know they are the most beautiful ... and still you dedicate me a glimpse ... then why when you look at me you do it coldly ? With eyes so cold that freezes the soul.
You do that to hurt me, but I must say that you reflect a little spark of pity for this undignified love for you. Even so, your look is more beautiful than the person who looks at you, do not look at me like that ... because you will not be less beautiful.
And if you have a second of y
PretendingYou, full and complete you, you have become my strength and my talisman for all times...
You, and again you, you let I wrecked just in you…
You, my madness is you, you tie me to your body and do not let me go...
You, inside me, between every atom, between every cell you live among...
I say all the time: fear not, there are songs that will never know who sings...
Those kisses never know who prints them on your lovely lips...
You nail down your dreamy eyes and tenderly ask me: Are you crying?
No, I answer. Dried my eyes are... to the bottom you can look into them.
If you get lost, breathe me and you will find you.
The truth is that I beg you to remember that this that born in my mouth, this awakening in my eyes, will sleep latency in your soul.
Undoubtedly you will become the most beautiful and sad fisherwoman of Stars.
I'm hiding my will to live, of my desire to live for you.
Maybe I can lose myself in the eyes of the person asking for a miracle, but it is certain that, I want to
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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