You. I amal you cups. Do not take it from my hand. Do not put it near the pelvis. Keep standing behind you, fail to be disturbed by the artery in your neck. Print my kisses on your micro -small ear. I wear my clothes to go to my work. You will not accompany me even the door of the apartment. You will remain sitting on the seat with a stray look. Return late in the evening filled with my love. We have dinner, you and you with anxiety, love and painful isolation. We breathe the smell of hot bread over the table. Memories on their way to sleep fluctuating on the bed. A long day ends, making us part of his memories. It comes to me that the frightening of death is loneliness. One march alone in that valley. That will not scare us because we are together. You and I. Because we had moments saturated with love and sweetness, with the air that flows from the balcony in the evening color, throwing the ends of the white curtain. Mill your face with love, depth and despair in the bedroom. Adeling your eyesight from above my shoulder to the flint. You go to your head to the pillow. Turn off the small lamp. My heart remains in you and has an endless hope. Only if you tell me who is he who died and no longer sees the other?
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