(Read slowly, and affection. Yes, today I write to you)
I tried it. I traveled. I danced. Wrote.
dreamed. I thought. Even I kissed you.
I wallow in mind, and between bubbles and olive trees.
I wanted to do, absolutely everything, because it seems to me screwed.
You did not understand "why" and I did not know, nor wanted, to tell you.
then lived. I walked. Rel. I cried. I waited (and desperate)
I ate a pear and water droplets-inch fell
through my hands. I
. I dreamed (wake up) and wrote something small - I tried again.
you like it, and I had to lie,
say it was not for you, but it was.
And not only that, but a couple more.
One who lives under a beautiful tree, and is waiting to write it.
You did not do anything. Seriously, nothing. Nor
I took the trouble to do something (because, well, I got tired a little),
and dozens of hours ago I decided fatalistic (and finally) I would not do anything anymore.
Then came a "what do you want?", And my mind began to fill with little words, in spite of my decisions fatalistic, write (maybe last):
I want you to notice.
I want you to try (Only if you care).
I want to travel, dancing, writing,
dream, think, and then kiss me.
And we wallow in, and between olive and bubbles (now that we can).
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