Two weeks of tense waiting. How dependent we could turn to see? My checking account and your busy work schedule. In those days I could not sleep. His music, our music, accompanied me everywhere, at any time of day. I had left a shirt drenched in perfume to durmiésemos together even when separated and I did nothing but absorb that heady smell like trying to catch it, renowned as a literary thief and fragrances. What love was so beautiful, so tragic, missed you so much that a simple phone call could cause a twinge in the stomach more painful than a knife.
One day my numbers were no longer in red. And they turned to red after twenty minutes. I bet everything on a plane ticket and a few gifts that could make a man happy in my life. And again, I set course for the End of the Earth. Pouring rain and decided to take refuge in the first bed we could find, sunburned emanating from within. We ate at each other for hours in a kind of cannibalism of love as if we were living at it, to make sure one is not breathing, neither survived the other, such was the desire, that the torture of being separated. And that was the last night we would sleep together. Although I did not know it yet.
morning after our passion closure was something different in his tone of voice. If it were an aria, I would say it sounded so sad, dejected, and tune. I said I had to stay alone all day because I had some family problems to solve. I tried to make me partaker of them, at least let me know what was happening. But he said he hated to be pitied him in tough times. Was covered with iron armor and left me abandoned to my fate in the center of the city. And that day, whose hours were filled with minutes full of seconds that never ends, I spent wandering like a lost soul from four streets, remembering that time we were sleeping together in the sun on a cliff that looked a tiny portion of the Atlantic, but that I had seemed endless. Or the night sitting under a pine forest, pulled out his guitar and said I love playing songs for Led Zeppelin.
not to give too many laps, but had a bad omen hovering like a cloud over my head. Most of the evening, came to look and saw her eyes, unable to cope with mine, I knew I was not far from that bird of ill omen that haunted me. " You gotta go soon. something happen, "he said. I tried to show full, comprehensive, drawing strength even at the horns of which did not have, and if not, the painting or drawing, he did not want me branded as selfish, because he loved to the core and did not want him to feel any pressure and / or oppression. She was willing to accept any conditions. Only asked to I speak, because his silence was the worst of the screams, the most aggressive of the slaps.
And again in the airport, but this time there was a glaring error script. We were not going together to the Mediterranean buy a Ford Mustang for 65 second-hand. It was only the pretty whore cheap rock songs sad. Before boarding, he clutched his hands, wondering if the fingerprints will remain etched in the biographies of the skins of those we touch. And I said gently "'ll be okay. I promise. " But I knew better. Because those things known. Because there are times in life when a son of a bitch called God is laughing at you while you try to plan something and you become a plaything in their hands.
I let her go. I let him go. I stepped on shore and tried to trick the brain by pretending that everything was the same. But nothing was ever as never before. My existence had been naked . Without knowing why, because he never knew, I was taken away, it was removed. Even disappear. Anyone who has ever loved knows that there are always scars. His memory day after day, night after night, caused in my body outbreaks of stigmas that hurt, that hurt and hurt. Remember so clearly will hurt while his features and continue to fall to a dark hole in flames every time I wake up startled in the middle of the night.
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