You said my tears didn't taste salty
and I wanted to say
that was because I was drowning
all of our memories down my face.

But you know, that's not something
that can fit in a mouth,
I couldn't imagine my tongue
pronouncing those words,
there is no sound for those thoughts.

That's something you can read in a
note on a table, in a public toilet wall,
and it sound tragically beautiful
and maybe you'd take a picture
and post it in your social media
sharing the story of some strangers.

Althought it's totally different
when you feel those tears
falling down in rivers, in columns
of sweets memories and happy days,
but I couldn't say that
it would make everyting harder.

And now we're looking at each other
and inside of me there's a lagoon
of the things that couldn't be said
and the memories that couldn't be sweet,
I realize I'm really sunken in my own narrative.

There were the bubbles
that are born when someone
open up a can of coke
but then
I looked at you
and you were crying,
mumbling an excuse,
a "sorry I was really sad too"
a "I don't know why I did that".
But it's always too late,
there is no bubbles now
just the liquid coke, without gas
you know that noboby likes it like that,
and I'm also deaf,
for all your words and sounds
I just watch you, like far far away,
like if I were the bubble
that have not born yet,
and I pray for the can, I want it
to be impossible to open,
because I like the efervescence of the begining
but I'm terrified of the final taste.

She's made of sunshine
and I'd never forget the first time
I saw her shine, she illuminates
everything, even me.

I feel warm around her
and when she hold me
I'm a kaleidoscope of sunshine,
I hope I never forget.

The most beautiful part:
I know I can live without her
I'll be good, but I prefer my sun close
now that I have a photosynthetic heart.

I wish I know you
the way I know every freckle of my sweater,
I whish you want to know me too
because it's cold and the sweater have holes
and I'm starting to question my own knowledge,
I didn't remeber the sleeves where that short.

My childhood was a sunflower
it has moved following the sun,
the light, the brightness, it has moved.
Then it came the night, I died
everytime the moon owns the sky.
Then again I was reborn, alive,
with seeds, with petals, with leaves
with sedds, with hope, with hapiness.
Wish I had grab my roots better at the ferm ground
now that my last sight it's only dust.

I wish we share the room someday,
we'll share our breathe, our blink,
I hope someday you impregante me
of the art you are wrapped into
because now I'm just a black hole
of nothing because I'm surrounded
by the meaning of the words I've never said
and I really wanted to.
I hope someday you look at me like
I think I'd look at you if you were here now,
I'm not like in love with you, maybe I am,
I really don't know how to feel
or even what I'm feeling
because the universe have eaten me alive
I couldn't remember if it was yerterday
o two thousand years ago.
I'm sorry for this mess
I hope we can live with it in that room.

My father is a traitor
of the sacred promise
he made to us.

I mean he didn't harm us
on tradditional ways,
maybe the modern pain is worse,
maybe we'll be in pain forever.

My mother is a leader
of the chaos our lifes have become.
I don't remeber when we didn't organise
every step we made, because we are afraid
of falling into the deep space of our feelings.

My sister is a fighter,
protecting us for becoming nothing,
fighting with my darkness
even if it invades all of our room.

I don't know who I am,
I don't know if I'm the enemy
everyone tries to warning me about,
I live in that chaos, on that pain,
on that darkness, I became that,
an spiral of little destruction.

I become the witch in that story
with a costume of observer
because I'm just to paralised
to show them the inside,
of the darkness that'd  eat us alive.

We may not be perfect
just as somebody else
we're the ones that know
that everything has an end.

Now I'm on my knees
praying to a God that I
don't think exists,
praying fot the mistaken butterflies
for the fragility of their wings.
Praying for them in this wild world
wondering if someone is praying for me.

I know the world is full
of sensations and feelings
so I'll let the roots fill me
and make an armor around my limbs.

I hope someone is praying
for the tree girl
the girl who is made of dust and pollen.
I hope they believe in me
because I know things
about the end of everything,
about the imperfections
and the end of the world,
the one that make me alive.

A constellation
of sadness
fill the sky this night
was that just a star
or a shiny tear?
We may never know
have we ever cared?

Stop watering roses
thinking they'll be daisies
thorns have its own beauty.

Treat roses like  tough ones,
dirt and darkness has reach their roots
I hope you won't expect a colourful bloom.

Stop watering roses
thinking they'll be red
there a so many roses
for every life, even dead.

Stop watering roses
they're all in bed today
there are people who mistreat them
and now they're watering with regret.

I walked the path
that made me
became us
And I thought
about every step I made
because my soul
was hungry
of our warm
and step by step
I became a blackhole
of love.
I could walk back
to the safety
to the warm of home
but I refused,
and now I think
I've started to believe in fate
Because I didn't have the strenght
to believe in myself.