I have an engine where my voice has glances for what is to come, I want to grasp the future where my vital song pretends to be a dance I offer you to cut the distance, and it moves like the flame of your two-syllable name. Time caught in breaths, moving the sound, facing to love, and seeking to be loved back. It costs a lot to say the verb to love, but perhaps the will of my emotions deserves to be helped by charity and mercy.
You know, this Thursday 28th I made a bet because I had many childish doubts. In a moment I could do as I always do, retrace my steps and keep myself in my familiar zone. But with the uncertainty of being under the silence, uncaused for all intents and purposes, and hidden among the bits and waves of electric space, I chose the movement of going near you to manifest. I traveled to a bench on the Residencial, in the dark heat of a night, at half-past nine o'clock. A straight pedestrian walkway, lights on round lampposts, many walking their pets. And I rained. I delivered with a great desire my honesty. I told you, little comrade, that you were a surprise of the fate of all my hearts because in a week you had led me to the temptation to dream the future, to imagine the light of day as a consequence of your smile, and that my ocean of life was asking your permission to bite you and kiss you. In the rarity of being lined paper with a grid, this city of rivers is the frame for you guapa infinita.
And my voice concludes that everything I did and everything to come is a contagion of loving and being loved. I heard you sincere, we are both in different spaces, you smile but you must rebuild, I seem ready, so, it won't happen today or soon. And a list of words behind words appears.
What do I have to tell you?
These are strange times, where immaterial socialism brings me a wild-haired comrade. And I rain to sprout as nature and life. I rain being me and for me, come what may, I'm on a great pinnacle to live, maybe I always have been. And loneliness is natural and a good song.
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