I had a lot of strokes here
Drawing the mirage
Rescuing in my abysses
The design of your arms
It's good that you knit
Of presence all the air
That you turn off that dance
That wear your scissors
The day says sunsets
In a blue that is wrong
That when combined without your eyes
It does not regulate its levels
They are dreaming here my ropes
With skipping the walls that hide you
You are far and intangible
And I open the dream that you came
Descending the stairs of impossible things
These meters fracture me
Unmarked in your wings
Revealed because you are late
Already in measuring your tenderness
The day says sunsets
In a blue that is wrong
That when combined without your eyes
It does not regulate its levels
They are dreaming here my ropes
With skipping the walls that hide you
Melancholy is the noise of a without you
If here the night brings the game of leaves with the wind
It was good that you fell from the satellite that ties you
Because here in all tones spring does not bloom
There is an uprising of minutes against you here
What unfriendly report that we left a long time
Only among all we can make this a better place :)