back to a past unnecessary. keep waiting long?
I'm mad at me. To feel that disappointment, that emptiness deep unbearable in here that keep your eyes open and smile. I bleed inside, internal suicide, violating my own desires and emotions. Victimizing of my own story, in which both space and plenty of solitude so wet. The aroma of clove smoke coming out of my mouth wraps the serenity of the deep ocean me. I am strangely calm, resigned, boring, boring reading you, bored and disgusted with your lack of courage, of your apathy and conformist repulsively contradictory. Disgusted that I face it, they prefer to live without me and pretend to be indifferent ... indifferent due to the distance between your body and mine, invisible borders that you built for knowing you safe from the madness and fear, because the desire and the desire to escape our eyes so whenever we're face to face, feelings seep through the pores, each time you fusionándote pupils delight in mine, every time you cross my legs with your eyes so obvious and your smile spontaneously. Indifferent, believing you your own farce, when your eyes will cry so much in my soul that nerves betray you and pretend your self utopian, filling every space on your sadness erratic and passive. Bored to see how you keep trying to deceive her, the loneliness, you and me. I forget a step, do not forget. A one-step to teach you what it really means indifference. In a step that live beyond my stills, and you will want better off dead than to live in my oblivion. I'm one step away from tear for all of my body, my lines and my thoughts. How I can be so smart? How I can stop the beating and become air and life? How I can do without you and feel more alive that neck? I owe everything to that indifference forced and stupid. I owe everything to that day when I said I did not mean anything to you, that day when I discovered you were a lost illusion, which did not exist, that everything I saw in you was fading slowly, lost in the vastness a null history, all your ironic and ridiculous farce. Now I understand how I love you so much. She loved the man at my side, but not the man you were.
My past is uncertain about to die, your hand, your kisses, your body ... a point between reality and magic. A sharp point that my desire to watch you evade fixed, close to you, to talk to slowly pronouncing my words in your mouth, desabotonarte shirt and make you tremble as before, as always, like never before. To hear you say my name, and between your bare skin, from deep eyes, silk caresses and kisses of honey. Forgetting weigh, press, ridiculed and crazy. Because the memories will live forever as long as consciousness. Because even if you forget and walk away, distance and borders are of no error if we run into at some point in this city that demands our essence. If by mistake I look in my eyes and I sneak into my soul, if by mistake I see you fixed my mouth and slips into the depths of your being. Because you do not need to touch me to feel close, because I do not need to be close to touch.
Because both played oblivion and indifference because the two bleed inside, torn, consuming us, dying slowly, to let fear win and enter the end point of what could have been and never will be. The end point of what I feel, the end point of our goodbye.
Oblivion is eternal loneliness, involuntary. Indifference erratic utopian solution. The reality cheating heartbreak.
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