your eyes still speak to me.
Ours is a daily meeting.
Without why, but, if, though-
But we met.
The meeting of souls never die
because it was never
born at all.
It meets to define the whole
You see, the thought becomes warm: skin appears, yet lives longer than me: met.
What does it mean? What have you had?
The joys. Words not said. Grudges. Remorse. Happiness. Fears.
I met you and everything, that everything is crying yes, but why?
You’ll be tired. Weights on weights. You walk in the night, open the door, welcomes you Bag. Here it is. Meet.
What does it mean?
What have you had? What will?
But as you know, mine are just words; only spots on a grey sky.
I met you. stuck, an eternal root. This is it.
love you with every flaw I have, with every disappointment, every poor rhetoric and yet I continue to write, because I have met you.
I met you and the price now is so high that sky did not ask mercy of anything.
I met you, tesoro.
Life imposes other as anyone normal.
But I met you.
This is, for me, the love and feeling guilty even writing it, not worthy perhaps, never been – and yet, the meeting: my soul, your own.
To that I do not ask much.
As you, wrote “more than that, it’s impossible.”
And I love you like the first day until the stars will sing the end of all living matter.
When two meet they never die.
Wrong on my part, I’m involved in this, right ?, but we will never die.
it is you (you) I met you. I met you.
It will rain at the end of everything, or there will be a bright sun?