The immortality is being with you,
Shining in your eyes,
Feeling completely,
all what we are.

That's the tragedy of the love,
Being and not, touching and not,
Kissing and not.


I do no know if merely abandon your ways,
But those uncertainties overcome me,
And  really I liked we were more.

There are  many things,
To be said what we are,
But almost impossible to say all,
And it is a great misfortune for me.

If one day, I am distant, Cesar,
That is not what you suppose,
It is only, I want to wake up from this dream,
from this love...

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We loved  few seconds.No one chooses us.

That first night he requested photos of my bed and my body in the shower.

He knows the  interval's seconds of each answer when we were on chat.

And wanted to hear my voice, although  didn't know anything about him.

But I did.

Not sure if he was one of those ghosts that roam through social networks, without a face or voice.

What was his name? I don't remember it.

But I've never felt so loved.

"I am not ready to be yours".

Was his last word that afternoon.

I never saw him again.

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I wanted to tell you that I'll be here until Jan. 12, a symbolic number for me.
I've enjoyed seeing and caress you with my looks.

Since I discovered that I could love a man from my thirteen, a few times I found the enigma of men like you.

Of certain, we are on the side opposite in terms of tastes, but that is always so.

Nobody loves things that prefer the others, but to the others who love, such differences disappear.

I get out of this place because in the two months I've been here I perceive as a place of ****** exchange than anything else. Which is not bad, but definitely is not for me.

I've never believed in Princes Blue, but somehow you have been that for me.

I wish you luck, but I think a sensible person search and emotionally balanced, here is unlikely.

Places like this, stealing innocence that one carries within.

Your poem is still very popular on the site.

When your image come back to me, after days when I never again see you, maybe will change it a bit, still I believe you deserve a better choice.

One of the greatest Jews master  says that it is very easy to move someone out of your life, it is difficult to bring it to you. I believe that is true.

I do not try to attract you near to me, really, but the love that I think must join two men, but to any persons whose goal in life is the fullness, and not the happiness. I've never believed in happiness.

I leave you my mail if someday you want to know something.

You can not give me the love that I've given you Denni, simply because it is an individual creation, such as a painting, a sculpture or a
Symphony, as one made inspired by something or someone. In this case you have been that for me and wanted you to know it.

There is something in you of tremendous beauty, don't know what really that is.

Or Yes, I know...
Is...you...
You,
as you had been to me.

There is a forest behind your eyes and a stranger serenity.

Your soft hair caresses your manly face.

Your fingers, soft and forties tips rounded,

Tender and flexible as your lips.

Your body upright, covered with soft hair in an almost white background.

The beauty of the world
in a single man.

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Search instead of happiness the wholeness.

Because one is passed soon, while the other transforms, and gives meaning to your life.

When one discovers the things that make you whole man, has solved all the other.

I discovered the love of a man when I had thirteen and since then everyone has been clarified and filling that space and has made me a whole person.

My first loves were friends, then I started to choose and include more than them.

Become whole man is a journey that only clarifies experience it.
Only one person, neither is the answer.

The age is not enough either

They meet on a little river on the web,
And choose the friendship of the earth and the moon.
The fragrance of his smiles, become theirs frontiers.

One day, the young discovered his friend as a poet and the words he used, were a tender ribbon of pure love.

May be  was too young for that encounter,
But not at all, he is brave on his heart.

Nobody knows why, he does not recognize those songs and poems existed for him.

Even, their first encounter was seven hundred of years ago on Granada, Spain.

Today, as usual, in a lovely and happy day, another time to time encounter come.

But no, is not.
Each of them ignored, theirs worlds will not be the same,
After such a day and after this last encounter....

I may love you in my silences,
Maybe you know it, maybe not.

I may love you as being your guest,
An early guest one and unique,
A visitor into your eyes and your voice.

I may love you in the land of this language,
a language of silent encounters was born my words,
without elegance, but truly.

I may love you in this land of glances,
of simplicity intuitions,
a land of being one.