Hope in our venue

I've never thought love
could mean so little to me
as it does nowadays. Your words have no
inspiration to my dreams, anymore.
It might be my eyes; tired of loosing
sleep trying to understand you or
maybe my so called feelings are finally
fading as I once wished they would.

I don't want to sound like a hypocrite
but even when I say I love you,
I can't feel the spark anymore.
I search for more than hopes,
I search for fire. The one that sets
the music to my soul and takes me away.
But as I reach my favorite place in the sky,
I no longer find you there.

Falling in love is magical but falling
out of love is tragical. I've loved you
for so long that I can't remember what
it was like to not be in love with you.
But what can we do now that your plan
to keep me close, took away all of
what belonged to you.

Help me find my way back to you.
Help me pursue hope in our venue again.
Take my hand and never again let go,
cause that might be our last chance to be in love.

Give Me

Those words that linger in your
tongue can cure all of my soul.
And those eyes have the blues that gives
me hope of a brighter future.
Your lips are the evidence that heaven exists,
impulsing me to sail your body like an ocean
without limits.
In your arms I find the route of strength
to defy the world.
And your voice, so sweet, softens
my cruel nights.
My philosophy and my religion is to search
for a reason to live in your heart.
My only philosophy and religion
is the theory of reaching your soul.
Give me a reason, a sign, give me some of your hope.
Give me your first time, your loneliness, your fears,
your first kiss. Give me everything you have. Give me
a little more of you and I will give you a little more of me.
Give me a minute of your life to find happiness in your heart.

Set those words free.

Au Revoir to my Bonjour

What is France without Bonjour?

It's love without affection, it's a night

without the moon: empty and solitary of a soul.

It is a kiss never given or words never spoken and 

if so, there is no moment that can give back the real

Bonjour. 

France would then, no longer mean anything to the lovers 

neither to the dreamers or to the painters. It's no longer a 

description of what used to be happiness but rather empty actions of lust. 

France without Bonjour it's what I call you; 

with your attitude so carefree that makes me 

feel so weak, with your so called reality that reminds me 

of empty streets in Berlin. And your smile of a king....That gives it all away.

"Bonjour" I say to you but, there is no hello in a goodbye like this,

cause my France has been destroyed for lack of faith and

hope for this love. "Au Revoir France"

I can't help

I can't help wanting you.
I can't help feeling like someone
that you don't need in your life.
I can't help not feeling loved.
I can't help wanting to be there,
even when you don't want me to.
I can't help falling in love,
and wanting to repeat those words
over, and over again.
I can't help being stubborn around you,
since being stubborn is what has kept me
close to you after all.
I can't help wanting to see, touch, hear
you; Feel your breath right next to me.
I can't help putting on replay those
songs you love so much.
I can't help being scare, fearing loosing
you or loosing me instead.
I can't help not agreeing with our
agreenment. What happens if our plan
doesn't work?
I can't help being jealous of the
idea of another girl being there.
I can't help being selfish.
I can't help missing you this much.
I can't help my heart from beating
the heck out of me when I have your attention.
I can't help thinking about you in the car,
at work, on my way to church.
I can't help it, I can't help myself.
I might be wrong, I know. But you can't
help this stubborn soul, now can you?

The streets.

Untitled it's my heart,
and blank as this notepad
when I first opened it.

I listen to the sweet words of love,
tasting the eco silence of broken homes. 

No emptiness lives in me yet my streets are solitary.

I don't search for adventures yet 

the enigma of life hunts me. 

And whenever I doubt myself, 

I remember that I am stronger than before because after all those bombs,
I've become immune to love.

I live in an empty battle, 

walk my streets
stepping on dry blood.

I wonder if the sun
has ever wanted to enlight my world.

As I walk my familiar streets
I get the feeling of Robert Neville.
"Where's my sam?" 

I say and laugh.
-No human being would like to be next to
you. You're a monster remember that.-
is those silly thoughts 

that keep me cold. 

My hands numb and my eyes,
dark.

"I'd like to think I'm a pretty
monster at least" 

so I run my cold fingers 

through my hair
as if that would 

make a difference...

"Trust me. I will never hurt you"
words that still bounce in my head.

I leave my world for two seconds

and remember the hot weather, 

the petty kiss, given.
I rewind the last walk,

the last hug, as I

Loose Internal Energy Slowly.

I come back to my world 

and realize I've been walking 

in circles for the past
couple of hours.

It's getting colder, 

so I kiss the air goodbye. 

And start walking back

to my home. 

A pesar de la soledad, soy libre.

I tell myself.

La obra falsa

Ya paro aqui de llover,
ya no duele mi voz al beber.
Tomo dos copas y baja el telon,
de esta historia falsa de amor.
Veo actores como juegan mi papel, y me pregunto
si morire esta vez por culpa de un maldito error.

Tomo el riesgo por quinta vez, soy sincera
y torpe a la vez. Empieza la lluvia y la escucho caer,
al ritmo del sonido de mi corazon. Mis latidos van muriendo
al compas del amor.Queman mis entrañas por culpa del alcohol.
bendito Smirnoff!
 
Mi alma tiene la dicha de sentir, y aveces ser feliz.
Pero dentro de la historia, de la obra, o vida real, vivo muriendo,
acaso no soy real? Ya mis alas van desapareciendo, muero lento y
rapido a la vez. Baja el telon tan rapido como baja el alcohol.
Muero por quinta vez, en esta obra falsa de amor.

P. 75

There is nothing else but broken hearts,

in this solitary life of mines. Nothing

else still alive, in this battle field of life.

Blood running through empty streets.

Amazing to see, all this pain she has caused to me.

Amazed to see all the wounded hearts,

Surprising to know I'm not the only one,

she played. Is she happy to see all this pain, I wonder.

Is she able to sleep in peace, alone.

A cold blooded person with no mercy for love.

Your words were nothing, Still are nothing just, empty holes.