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Sobre ti

Sobre ti no quiero hacer poesía, sólo quiero mirarme todas las horas en tus ojos. Sobre ti no quiero hacer más fiesta que la que vive en tus sonrisas. Sobre ti existe una idea de paz que tranquiliza el viento. Sobre ti me gustan los momentos de paz, la calidez de tu alma.

Sobre ti me encanta la elegancia de tu pelo, la maravillosa claridad de tu piel. Sobre ti viven los contrastes del este. Sobre ti parece todo sencillo y casual, sobre ti la vida se vuelve bonita.

Sobre ti quiero escribir memorias y no promesas, sobre ti quiero tener recuerdos y no ilusiones, sobre ti quiero descansar mi alma cuando esté cansada, sobre ti quiero sentir la calidez de tu espalda.

Sobre ti quiero contar las estrellas de tu piel que tiene el universo, sobre ti vive el eterno lienzo de mi inspiración nocturna, sobre ti quiero que hable el tango que bailemos a La Luz de la luna, sobre ti quiero reposar mi mano al descansar.

Sobre ti se vuelven las letras que ayudan a respirar 

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Dear JC, It's peculiar, isn't it, how the mind clings to memories, especially those we wish to forget? Some nights, I find myself ensnared in a web of dreams, each thread woven with echoes of you. You, who dominated my thoughts, still reign in the kingdom of my nighttime musings. I remember, with an unsettling clarity, every encounter, every word, and every smirk. The way your laughter would echo down hallways, a haunting melody that played on all my strings. The cold glint in your eyes as you found new ways to assert your dominance, your power, unyielding and absolute. In these dreams, I revisit those days, each detail meticulously preserved in the museum of my mind. The corridors, once mundane, now seem like twisted labyrinths in my dreams, with you as the ever-present Minotaur, both feared and revered. Sometimes, I wonder if you ever think of those days. Do you ever recall the weight of your words and actions? Or have they dissolved into the ether, insignificant and forgotte...