
WORD LET ME BE YOUR LIPS TO DIE IN ...
Like swim when the soul leaves your back like foam and water slides for my win. The mirror is tarnished by the shame of giving ourselves playing witnesses drops kiss your north and my south. The childhood fear of drowning in your eyes, green crystals, which reflect the tip of the finger that draws the moon tattoo in your breast as an ornament night. You slip my arms making you steam, colándote, fugándonos the world that does not stop raining. It's hard to breathe in such a small place in your hands, tongue-drying water crumbs clinging to the eyelashes trembling fan. While you're in the glow of the liquor drops like sweetness on my neck, I pull out slices of life tonight. I do not break in your laughter. It's time to sleep. There is no time to dry your hair when it's bedtime at your side. Never mind that the new sheets are soaked with the bodies clinging to the wings of another. Just being.
I have as I never had.
love my books. I have loved from the first day I learned to read and love them forever. A week ago, my parents got them the crazy idea that would have to sell my treasures, because everything is very expensive, and Dad's salary is not enough, Charlie's school is very exclusive price of gasoline goes up, and not as easy to hang us from the light of good neighbors, meat is becoming more and more expensive, not enough to eat.
I did not understand until yesterday, when I roared hungry guts. I looked at my books with melancholy and I heard my parents complain again. Filled my eyes with tears. I have no regrets. Carlitos meat is soft and while my parents are in the refrigerator, the meat will last at least until Grandma comes to visit ...