Post N° 147

I do not know how to do. How do so to leave, leave me here. How do you not shake my hands. How do you kill so what I have said. How do you say enough. Your love, saying that your love was infinite, it was always that I was the only different from the others, the single that never, never ever find another like me.Dici that meet another maybe, maybe a story serene, but not me. And you mourn the heart because I am not.   Why? Why I leave here. What I do myself of your words. I dreamed that already, your smiles, homes riordinate, gearing up for the campaign in the spring, to see the sea from above, to see the nuances of water, to breakfast together, to travel, discover, see the same and hear things the same way, share everything. The sadness. In this world where everything is shit, we could do together. Our books, housing, dust, disorder, the orange light that passes through the tent, the first sun, the first rain. The seagulls, the fishing boats, salad, pizza, the mountains, for the first time, your hands. Tell me which is a bad dream