9. You never know what you are saying not until later, when it is too late. However much one has always known what he does not know. I guess ultimately that's the only thing left to say and that's why I write so far, no surrender, no doubt. Ever wondered if perhaps enough to enclose your name and repeat for eternity the fantasies and illusions that I conceived from the first glance. I wondered if I could see beyond the dream or hope, if you know you separate your body, your mind, what you up my soul. Ever got the pen with your name and preferred to keep quiet about, because I wanted pure, I wanted yours, not mine. Today I know that somehow did not know what he said, but each of my words was true. I got your name, yours and mine now beginning to be hopeless and lonely you my name.
Your name, and mine alone, they would not be attached to your face or your smile. Write your name and lock into words what it was. Your name no longer mine because it remains attached to your face or your reality, but the memory starts to resemble more and more diffuse and remote from your first smile, her due date. Your first smile and not illusion, but is rewritten now for your absence and your resignation as the only sure sign of doom. At first just a little to be happy, then nothing is enough. Nothing. Not even the memory is reconfigured and vanishes without a remedy. You lose the light in the darkness and shadows are darker. I love you, I wrote and read over my shoulder. Then it was beautiful, now it is sad and perhaps one of the most painful moments of life. Because I'll never have enough of you, because today you chose to leave me with only twenty days since my first I love you to your absence, let me twenty-four days of absence that were robbing me of hope. And with just two days, a few hours before me you're leaving. Had not even finished when you were going to get again. If infinity is not enough, what good twenty days of love? Twenty days ... Your name and mine alone for now is this, your name is my pain, your fading memory. Your name is mine and no longer states but your absence, your presence passenger. Mine alone and your name is now just a word that reminds me that I lost something but it returns a shadow of what I lost.
You do not know what he says and yet he says the truth: you are the pain that never ends. I painted you a pat on the arm, first of all our caresses. I thought you would give a new meaning to smile. A caress impossible to live day life. Even more impossible because you're going and your name is mine and I have no hope of seeing, let alone touch you. There was a caress, and was the first. It was the first step towards this target then was still to happen and today is already hopeless. Your name I refused to write would shape my destiny, I wrote, that told me when I moved even lost in the labyrinth of time. Today, at the edge of the end of the world know your name describes my destiny, because it's not yours is mine and all I have is my imagination then, you neglect and letters painted on paper. Then everything was about to happen. Today, nothing remains. The world over. Now everything is gone. When everything is about, is that going to end and although you do not know what he says, telling the truth.
You're not my left, guessing the words I paint in a notebook. I have come to the end of the labyrinth of time and dreams. I did not know what he said as he thought looking at everything from a perspective outside of time. When the time when it is beyond time, but it is far from all hope. Now I can see everything clearly, the line between your purity of my dreams is plotted with solid lines that I write your name. Crooked lines, boundaries that move and lost in labyrinthine curves where there is no exit. Where there was no way out as everything could be, while everything was about. Now, however, there is no entry or return. The borders were closed and all doors, the last light of the world escaped. So see you thinking wrote in slowly read you my words to fall in love. But I knew they are just words. Now I write with certainty that my words will not reach your ears. My letter will not reach your eyes and my voice will echo in the emptiness and darkness. At the end are just words, but did not know what he said then, and now I know and I would not know it. Write your name, I said, when there is no question whether hope or curse. There is no hope. Now I know what he said.
I can not ask you not to go not because you're gone. And wish, ask that you would not have been meaningless. You're gone and we must learn to live in a world where the end of our twenty-one days together describe your body the perfect sign undeniably says are words. I can not ask you not to go, do not leave me alone, wounded for life against endless sunsets that I can retrieve your name and my words, but not your voice or your body or your baby. Words, Salua, useless words did little to keep your smile and your joy. Treasonable words I took a piece, the last of the soul and put your feet to tear it apart. You go, you left. And you will hope magic words, smile and eternity. You go and take it with you all, to my words. Do not go, I asked from day one. But you did not care that you left.
And now, since the absence and beyond time and dreams, could continue to vary, write endless articles about a love extinct. Transform that love died in endless variations on a theme of love that never ends. Remedy their extinction and death with words. But it makes no sense. My words will not have light to read. Echoes are useless and meaning. You're not reading them. So for one last time, Salua, lift the pen and write your name. For the last time and that you hear me and come back some day, I tell you I love you, Salua with no end I love you. Hopefully last words are recorded in your heart even though the weather destroy them and everything has an end. Last words last longer than me and you and the shorts, insufficient day you gave me almost like an eternity. Listen carefully if you still can. I love you, Salua, without end. Do not go.
course you never know what he says, may not be the last words. Perhaps one day return.
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