I have no pictures of you.
Yet you live in my life like in my lungs the flu.
I have no letters of you.
Yet your name is written on my heart with blue.
I have no memories of you.
Yet my life without you finds no clue.
I know you don't want me with you.
Yet I would give away my life to be part of your crew.
I know my chances are zero with you.
Yet I dream our hearts are going to be pasted with glue.
I pray to wake up from this dreaming of you.
And I hope someday I 'll understand that I'm not your boo.
Yet I know one day my wall will have pictures of you.
And God knows I 'll be in those pictures too.
Follar es, entre otros, componer en hojas algo. Aquí se folla. Muchísimo (en verdad no tanto como quisiéramos).
- Poemas (44)
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