The coincidences do not exist.
could not be a coincidence that my little apartment single "made in Quechua" were to stop next to yours one afternoon in September.
Not that I fled from a disappointment and you a break.
just had to share a couple of concerts and open
your watch for what I later call My particular 1999. Paradoxically
Love concert marked the beginning of Lesbian and a few months later marked the end.
I guess we did not know us or who just did that night when we held hands unable to imagine what would happen next.
The runaways, doubts and fears.
And now I forget, but it costs me. That
not answer every email, every word that does not answer, is a meter that I put you away.
I do not want, but can not be otherwise.
we never told you, I started to love and so disappeared.
"We met without roots", we failed to keep pace, and although have spent many weeks every day I keep thinking about your smile that is no longer for me.
I hope you do not, nor will I seek. I walk my labyrinth trying to find out that I resist. That has to be, but I want to find is consisting.
always been difficult to ignore stories that were never close.
