Who Makes Acini De Pepe Pasta

2006.

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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In the words ...

Poetry. I do not care, it's like try to tell something I'm not. One day, I was told that the writer brings the lines on the skin, I think it's better to have the blood of ink. You can not take anything on the skin for wrinkles, corrode. What
feel rain?
As drop in your body until you scatter in full, drain from your forehead.
I wanted to get rid of you, disarm between your fingers, between my legs, between your tongue. Eat your breath, take a shower in my dreams. you. You to be a suicide. A mouth. Damn
rain that fills the eyes of memories, attack points, you suffer, I fear. Love
what word shorter. More than a game you and I not to play, not vivirnos while breathing its essence that we have. What word selfish. Suffered. Dramatic. Like me. As though you deny it and hide in the skirts of the day.
How quickly I just love the desire to stay in you forever. Always. An infinite word. Then it will be infinitely .
Last night I slept alone. Not today. Because I could not sleep without dreams. They know now. I know I do not care. They know that gossip , scream it, we condemn what? WHAT? Nothing. That love grows stronger and smiles ...

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At what point ... Sigh

Tito left me on my email as five times ... here goes for those who want to take it ...

1. At what point did you realize you were in love or for the first time?

Ha ... I remember ... unless the hand that had braces and I saw a thing happen fat, white girl in the schoolyard for 18 years ... and now my best friend ... or perhaps recently ... because in reality in our lives, we are in love many times, then we realize that such love have an expiration date. Just know that I am now. That's what matters.

2. When did you decide to be what you are now?

All my life I wanted to write ... no more ...

3. At what point did you feel alone for the first time?

In a waiting room in a funeral home.

4. At what point in your life have been happier?

try to be happy forever, so there is no happier moment, there are many ... like now.

5. When did someone let you down?

Well ... many people have gone through this list ... but that the more memory ... someone in the family of course could not miss, anyone who ever left me when he thought he was in love, a group of "friends" they said and did horrible things against me without deberla not fear it, God (or so I thought), no I know! How sad!

6. What what time did you feel proud of you?

egolateca I guess for me, I can say that the Saturday presentation of the new anthology. As additional data, last night when the one o'clock we were still on board and then we went to bed, he whispered to me that he was proud of me ... and how I felt.

is everything.
can post this string when you walk to the races and have not uploaded anything to your blog for a week .... lol

Kisses ...