In those hot days of July was consumed yet another crime of the soul. His return was at first moment of absolute joy. That message, that evening, made her cheeks and red eyes. The hole in the heart that had healed in a very very short, which for brevity we consider even immeasurable. We know that for him to return to equilibrium means falling back towards the abyss. It is found, then, to write in his "Notebooks of complaints" of joy mixed with pain; of illusions and false hopes. It's the typical prologue, now appellant, of its end. If you could count the times when his heart has yielded to the wrong signals, perhaps by using sand, so many that they would be able to fill an hour-glass with which one could measure the time of relapse. In those days came back pale. Always felt very close to the pit of my stomach and a boulder on his chest. Now her tears are neither bitter nor sweets are terse, heavy and deadly. Was not hungry, if not its news and a bit of love that would never be received. It was there, with his eyes staring into space. Aware of the situation and impassive in front of it. Now expected. He waited for his body to rid himself of his soul again and then request it back as soon as the dim light of a vain hope of returning to light what he had left. It would not be possible to conclude a pact with the devil give him his soul in exchange for his heart, deprived of what is most pure and precious possessions. After all what could he do to a soul so poor, reduced pain, with coarse stitching to heal the gashes caused by past suffering. This was the price you pay for what they did not want to hear. Love does not die, he recited a song. Of course you do not actually die, you die with the body. The souls instead. They are the ones I met in the most remote and hidden world of interwoven strands of the fate of individuals destined to love each other for a good time to trapped forever in the realm of despair. And so, for injuries caused by the bloody fall over and kick the teeth, the souls are dying of love. And die alone. Then rise, and some stronger than ever forged. But this is not his case. Too many are falling. Is extremely mutilated his soul to raise strong and combative. His soul rises, but rises alone and fragile. And he is there, ready to go to deceive and deliver the last glorious shot. That shot that, in those hot days of July and for the time to follow, inevitably insaguina his lifeless essence. That kiss ..
Keinmal Einmal ist.
