Sunday, December 22, 2013

It was the First Kiss

It was mine and it was your love, was the love of the city, and was the love of life to own one of suffering. The game of our unique moments of happiness and snapshots and frames was the first kiss,

The kiss of a cartel, an agreement. The revenge of the dispossessed, the blind bowels of the earth, on inconsolable crying, the whores. It was my kiss, your kiss was kept time to the music and the silence of words that could be said and the unsaid. The music and especially the kiss.

The game box invited us to advance three other four have five or so a growing number. First prize in the thrill of heart, second prize in the joy of owning a participant soul to tears. Participate in a deep breath that I bent, which softened my temperament, which made me feel less alone, less impatient.

You were beside me, spoke to me in a discreet way. You have accepted the kiss and I've returned with the candour with ease. It could not be otherwise.

I touched you, I walked into your world. But I loved you,

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