Vives en ese espacio detrás de mis ojos, en donde se queda la belleza, los miedos y los sueños. En donde no tienes que mirar para mirar porque puedes sentir tu luz sin que haya un sólo rayo de sol. Vives detrás de mi nariz también, justo debajo. Despertando los más dulces recuerdos atrapados en tu aroma, reviviendo instantes que sólo se alimentan con tu ser. Vives detrás de mis labios, callando lo que de ti quiero decir y gritando todo lo que te quiero besar. Vives en cada grieta que con el frío recuerda tu piel, vives en cada latido que necesita tu voz...
I'm afraid of becoming different. I'm fearful of one morning being another person, of thinking too much, of questioning everything and trying to get away melancholy. I'm terrified of knowing everyone, of saying hello to all those people and remembering their names, of not being timid, of being a kind and friendly person the people says I am. Of course, I am not that. I don't keep a smile on my life; neither is nice nor sexy. I am too worried about thinking all time, about the conversations with myself and the healthy practices of waking up early, reading a lot, exercise and not eat meat. What will happen to me in this way? What will I become on this road? What will I do with the vacuum of no pain? I don't want to be that handsome guy, I don't want the cute smiling I see on the mirrors every morning, I don't want to smell sweet. I don't know what is happening; I don't know what is different now. I want my obscure Mondays; I need my unsolved dramas, th...
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