Her fairy tale..

His desire was alive, of life. ..of love

Of tender singing and fervent passions,

With souls waltzing in strings of feelings;

In her numb skin tattooing her written dreams.

Life… would just bury from the looks,

A torrid river would be his plateau and guide,

Phantasms in white flowers, pictured among thoughts,

Laying suavely, in his reborn path.

Of happiness taste, would too glorify,

in the fleeting time that the moment gave it

And I still stand engraved in the fillings living confessions..

What they order on late mornings turn to find.

It would break out embers of love

Through wet and warm eyes, feeding dear hope,

Aiming deeply in the distance.

Heavy clouds that hide, sweet faith.

His desire is still alive, of life.. of love

Of bright nights, of the moon in a greased charm,

At dawn with the whim of fresh feelings..

Of long sunsets but day by day turned.