I tried to define love,
but I couldn't come to an agreement.

Every heart has its own interpretation,
and I only came to one conclusion.

Love doesn't need to exist;
love endures throughout time.

How many times have I loved a memory,
and many times, only future ones.

How many times have I loved ideals,
how many times have I loved memories.

I have loved restlessness,
I have loved artificially.

I have loved without being loved,
how many times have I been loved without being able to love.

Sometimes I didn't love myself,
and at other times, I loved myself more than anyone.

How many times have I loved an imaginary person,
how many times have I loved no one.

How difficult it is to rationalize love.

in your expectations,
in your control,
in the "shoulds,"
in the "musts,"
in the "why didn't you do it?"

In part,
I'm to blame for your unhappiness.
And in part,
I want to be free.

The eternal dilemma:
to be or not to be...

We stop fearing love
when we accept that it won't last forever.

If our ideas don't end it,
our feelings, life or death will.

We will enjoy it while it exists,
we will not bind it,
we will set it free.

Every choice will be chosen,
every day that lifts us up, we will know how to sustain it.

And when it doesn't continue,
we may break,
but we will pick up each piece,
we will carefully reunite them.

Because sometimes breaking up
is the most honest way
to find ourselves whole again,
with the truth,
with ourselves.

There is one thing beautiful on this planet,
and that is life.
How beautiful life is.

Waking up every morning,
smiling at your loved ones,
just one "good morning."

How wonderful it is to go to work,
talking about silly things,
challenges that invite you to improve.

How wonderful it is to come home,
your pet wags its tail,
and your rest time arrives.

For yourself,
for your hobbies,
for your silence.

How wonderful life is,
just to have it.
How wonderful.

I long to rest in your eyes,
and just be,
in the murmur of silence.

In the sweetness of the calm
that smells of roses in the morning.

May your skin be my home,
and silence my insecurities,
just with your presence.

May our inner world collide,
in endless conversations,
losing itself in the depths of our universes.

May every morning be a choice,
may every morning be freedom,
to build a future with you.

Where is it?
Where did it go?

Could it be that I can't fall in love anymore?
Could it be that I've lost the ability?

Where's that intensity?
That storm of chemicals?
All that anxiety?

Where's the noise?
What's this softness?
Why so much tenderness?

Who am I if I don't have to fight to be loved?

Your eyes are more beautiful,
on your face.

Those lips are redder,
with your grace.

Those overalls,
they fit your body well.

That shirt looks more colorful,
with your smile.

And your hands are prettier,
when you hug me.

My heart is sad,
And my soul is resigned.

Another stage,
Once again.

A transcendence of the inner self,
Of the wounded child.

Who understood,
Who realized.

What he didn't have,
He won't have.

That place,
That little piece of land,
That is family.

I don't deny that one day it will bloom,
but today I allow myself to feel.

It's only the transcendence of detachment.
Of what never was.

A closed flower,
that one day may open

I'd choose the one of acceptance.
It gives strength and motivation.

Although completeness
is similar,
it feels different.

Many would choose love.
But can you love another person without accepting them?

Instead, accept them for everything they are and how they are.
That's powerful.

I felt the echo of the scent of your skin,
on my pillow
Skin as fine as a beam of light,
Fragile as Japanese porcelain,
Soft as the finest silk,
White as a fine gold plating,
radiant as only you know how to wear it.

Life is a train bound for the divine,
many souls will get on and off.
Some will reach the last stop,
and others will get off early.
Some will get on by mistake,
and others will sit comfortably.
Enjoy your journey, "and remember to leave your luggage before the end."

My heart is sad,
And my soul is resigned.

Another stage,
Once again.

A transcendence of the inner self,
Of the wounded child.

Who understood,
Who realized.

What he didn't have,
He won't have.

That place,
That little piece of land,
That is family.

I don't deny that one day it will bloom,
but today I allow myself to feel.

It's only the transcendence of detachment.
Of what never was.

A closed flower,
that one day may open

All morning,
Same bus,
Same seat.

She's wearing her long black pants,
A warm smile,
And classic bright eyes.

I should, but I don't have the courage to talk to her.
I don't know why I'm so afraid.
I don't even know her.

But something attracts me.
I don't know what it is.
But it attracts me.

I speak to you, son,
so that you will let me go,
let me go to heaven,
where the angels await me.

I speak to you, son,
so that you will know I'm okay,
let me continue on my path,
where I must go.

I speak to you, son,
so that you will not hold me back,
let me run among the clouds,
where my path has just begun.

I speak to you, son,
so that you will let me go,
let me go,
where my soul will be free.

Father, I understood that letting go of you is freeing myself.

Father, here I light these 5 candles,
one to thank you for each gift,
one to thank you for each moment given,
one to thank you for all you sacrificed for me,
one for each motivation and each affirmation,
one to thank you for each caress and each kiss.

5 candles that show all the love you gave me.
It wasn't enough, or not enough,
but it was what we knew how to give each other.

I'm letting you go.
Rest in peace.
I love you, Father.

Send me your kisses by letter,
I'll place them under the moon,
in the reflection of your eyes.

I'll savor them in every bite,
as if I were eating from your mouth.

But give them to me wherever I am,
whether on earth or in heaven,
wherever we are,
wherever we are.

.  

          ,   ,  

      ,       ,  

            .

Hello, baby.
My presence is for you.
Here we are, together.

I'm with you,
in this sacred room,
where nothing will hurt you.

I'll take care of you,
I'll hold you if you fall,
I'll be a shelter in cold weather,
and I'll hold you if you undress.

I'm here,
so that whatever must happen can happen.
I'll hold you with all that I am.

I'll hold you with respect,
with care,
with love.

I'll place my hand on your chest,
and we'll walk together wherever we need to go.
You can take it away whenever you want,
or when you no longer feel me.

I'm here for you.
You can leave if you want,
you can stay if you want.
I'll always be there for you.

Hello, baby.
My presence is for you.
Here we are, together.

I'm with you,
in this sacred room,
where nothing will hurt you.

I'll take care of you,
I'll hold you if you fall,
and I'll hold you if you undress.

I'm here,
so that whatever must happen can happen.

I'll hold you with all that I am.

I'll hold you with respect,
with care,
with love.

I'll place my hand on your chest,
and we'll walk together wherever we need to go.
You can take it away whenever you want,
or when you can't feel me anymore.

I'm here for you.
You can leave if you want,
you can stay if you want.
I'll always be there for you.

I never asked your permission to love,
Nor did I ever thank you,
for all the times I've loved.
You pumped up every emotion,
You pumped up every dream.
I never apologized for all the times I've broken you,
Nor did I have compassion,
Thanks to you, I have life,
Thanks to you, I live life.

What is this love thing?
... a verb disguised or confused with hormones and pheromones?
A place where we deal with our attachments and things we didn't understand?
A feeling of pride in what we've created and built with another person?
Or a place where we will be valued and accepted for who we are, with our vulnerabilities and flaws?
What is love?

How can I tell you I love you?
If you can see it in every kiss,
in every hug.
How can I tell you I love you?
If I shout it in how I care for you,
respect you, choose you.

And how can I say I don't love you?
If every verse and letter I write
comes from you.

If one day you need me to tell you,
and there are no words, no signs...
it's because you're no longer appreciating.

I have a very hurried rush
that wants to hurry me.
It presses like a farmer's boot
on the sweet fruit of wine.
The urgency to arrive,
to find,
to solve,
to be or undo.
It squeezes, but does not crush.
It binds, but releases.
I run as slowly
as the second hand of a clock:
second by second,
inch by inch.
As far as one can go, as close as one can fly,
as high as one can fly, as low as one can be.
As sad as one can be happy,
as innocent and sincere...
as one's soul can allow.