Bitter wind

Source of image of pixabay

The wind that touches my face is my north and my truth since it is what breather of my life, leaving behind a cell of shade without love, where my only light was my will of I feel.

The bells it is dreamed saying that the chains of my solitude break of one love that it was never every day I was turning into a blue rose, which his life means an impossible love, it is an adversity of a monotony, since the mor lights the flame of my being, but goes out and is chained in one forgets to if it is next to me, only hundred his wind but not his love in my skin.

I want to be the wind that invades your skin soft, and warm of one I embrace so that it is known that I am next to you, I fill of the flame that illuminates you your way in the solitude and in the happiness as tears that intersperses the sea.


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