killyourbuddha @ 2008-05-18T00: 42:00
My memory has stumbled into a dream about you. I see you again as I saw that morning in November, you were running came in a large hall with you in that suddenly had emptied, as the stars in the sky suddenly become dim in comparison to the light of the sun woke up too late , I still liked it and I know you like to nap with Gatteschi especially when it rains like today, round and big drops that water the fields and make a mockery of this asphalt swollen. You arrived with his hair still wet (not rain, as everyone has thought about it but to hurry ... shampoo is fine, but there are rituals that must be respected in the morning!), And at that moment you are my life seem, that that even if you write with a capital letter is always something bigger. You were for me the image of Mother Earth. Serena and stable, huge and very light, I imagined lay his bare foot on the concrete and then a flower suddenly crumble into pieces on the concrete. I imagine you sip carefully the things that touch, because you know that what comes in contact with you comes out more beautiful, more real, more meaningful. As a new Queen Midas, but the gold turns into something that is even more precious ... With so much violent
sweetness is requiring me to your presence makes me look ridiculous by trying to pack our nature in a flower bed. The scent of balsam of your hair, so blacks, so many, so rich to do the pale circle of Giotto, I still cherish as one of the most exciting memories I have of you.
I dreamed the same strength even in this day of April, you were gonna put a big colorful flowers you loved (and even liked me, I struggle to find someone who is not liked). That morning the sun had almost seemed a favorite you want to enlighten you in particular, that you already Didst thou appear supported by the lightweight material they are made of butterfly wings. It could be even more black humor, saying goodbye was saving, it was as dissolving a drop of ink in a vast ocean, quiet, green color that has just peace.
Now you are far away. Are you happy, knowing this is enough to appease my every thought nostalgic. Do you remember how we broke up? One day, I said, shyly mumbling these feelings-I see you (and yes, it is not an assumption or a hope, one day this will happen), and after we greeted myself and again purified of every weight, I'll tell you those exact words: "You see? I grew up for you, I became what you taught me to be. One day you'll give your name to a major star, and at that point will be made, as will be able to make free telephone calls at any time. I Just look up to heaven and say, at least for the next five hundred million years I find my North. "
