Love Is All

•you fill me with poetry

Love does not let me think like before, now I only think about what poetry is, try to hide love but this fills me with emotions, it is something difficult to hide.

Before love it was like everyone just monotony, but like hiding love if I feel like fire in wood.

There is always the echo in the mountain, you filled the silence, you covered the void.

I am in a fire, you are my ocean, I see you and I become dust in your presence.

The world is a child with bended eyes, but you fill the echo in the mountain, you can remove the child's buck, you know me.

You are like a great person hidden in the crowd with your great soul.

Love changes me, love changes us, it is singing without fear of silence.

Seeing the sun is like seeing the brightness of your eyes, so you can't see the sun, you can feel its warmth, you can feel love.

——

• We are love

You, me, a cabalistic love, bizarre, something that only you and I understand, our excessive love, we evoke that ineffable moment, where my hands were heaven and your lips paradise.

The world should no longer matter, if this is our universe, if this is what we are, love.

We are born of love, therefore happiness flows in our being, we are the emotion of a lie and the pain of a truth, we are the sound of silence.

We are everything so there is nothing, because we were born for this, to seek, to heal, to heal, to feel love, for this we are here, we represent sacrifice, courage and effort, you and I, we represent love.

——

•verses that shout his name

Now I live

Clinging to her memory

Thinking about what we were

In what we are

Bleeding my bowels

For painting his canvas.

Imagining your silhouette on the wall

Longing for the sound of his voice

Soaked by you

Submerged in its essence

Walking through the valleys of the abyss

Conceiving its hidden presence.

I am now

Pieces of you that prevail in me.

Dilated in the window

Scanning a signal

That I reach up to his arms.

But I'll bury his name in the trunk of oblivion

In the box of memories I still don't know

In order not to know for a while more about you

His absence sulphurs me.

Maybe one day I write a verse

Or dedicate a poem

But how disrespectful that fact would be

If I think of you, only I love you.