Unwittingly me in a forest of dreams where you have not slept reaching my hope . And if the moon could intermixed with my cry and obfuscate your fears with this neglect of ivy and gaps that allow you have not heard. Fainting
you, your forgetfulness, your mouth, your pale skin and my future. Die in past. And if my dream
beat my eye lids closing my innocence, you talk with shadows, with the deaths buried. Not wither this love ... I ensure that the moon at his funeral, bury it in your eyes, in a grave without flowers or ornaments. Shut my words without looking. Let my hands do not write for you, ensure that my dreams you walk. This confinement in my coffin is changed by life. Stop breathing your morning and I eat your memories profane to bite. The land of my mornings are nourished by the dust of your bones and exhume the body of your past so that my worms will devour and feed the lost kiss your forehead ... that does not drop my head on your shoulder for one last time. That there is that last time and be buried with your words in my being. Do not resurface, they can stay there, dead, buried, not alive today to live as I die for you both.
not let night, my head resting on his bed. Do not let me dream with your eyes lost in a lie ... do not leave me a memory that came to be ... do not tempt me with their hands hidden in my cold pillow. Do not let living in this melancholy, not can take over my breathing. That cold mist, pale, lonely, escape through the window of one who dies for not knowing how to live, to kiss and turned back to my memory. Do not forsake me in his lyrics, his body, his skin of his days ... Let alone, more so than it does not realize that it is. Let me live without confirming that it is not having my tongue. What is not having it? Without the sweet flavor of the recollections of a future with a desire to not have to want more than the seconds it belongs ... the mouths speak, at last, that reason should have ...
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