Invierno, es invierno y no estas aqui. El viento azota mi calma y las lluvias decembrinas intensifican el frio alojado en mi corazon. El tiempo calmo mas serene not aspire to forget, but it is winter and raining outside and not here.
The whispers of the night to soothe my soul and that chill that runs through my body while the walls of your room empty filtered memories of nights spent. Half-open curtains let in the sighs of April and May are suppressed murmurs in the old mattress that refuses to forget.
months ago and you left your scent is still here, your essence is hiding under the covers with the memory of your sweet and warm skin, I burn the fingertips with only imagine. If only I could touch you one more time.
So many secrets hidden in drawers and in the trunk under the bed, at first glance there is nothing for you, just fleeting memories that seem to perish with time. Spend June, July and August for clockwise and already I have forgotten but come September and emerge from nothing, because the fall does not know of oblivion.
between kisses and caresses dead withered seems resigned in December, my lips numb me about your absence. The cold winter knocks at my door and I aspire to forget, but it is winter and raining outside and not here.
The whispers of the night to soothe my soul and that chill that runs through my body while the walls of your room empty filtered memories of nights spent. Half-open curtains let in the sighs of April and May are suppressed murmurs in the old mattress that refuses to forget.
months ago and you left your scent is still here, your essence is hiding under the covers with the memory of your sweet and warm skin, I burn the fingertips with only imagine. If only I could touch you one more time.
So many secrets hidden in drawers and in the trunk under the bed, at first glance there is nothing for you, just fleeting memories that seem to perish with time. Spend June, July and August for clockwise and already I have forgotten but come September and emerge from nothing, because the fall does not know of oblivion.
between kisses and caresses dead withered seems resigned in December, my lips numb me about your absence. The cold winter knocks at my door and I aspire to forget, but it is winter and raining outside and not here.
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