Threatened by the longing
Today I received the visit of melancholy, honey from my childhood, a sweet called Sonero Caribbean Classic. That is and the dance rocked my cradle, the arms of my mother and my favorite tree icaco, making me a tiny smile, daring and cheap existentialism. The Sonero taught me to dance, to listen, to love, breathe, and above all, to say look at the sky as a field of desire and battles, as the infinite space that would guide me always I'll never understand: love, death and my rattle when the full moon streamed in the starry night. My mother gave me drink to Sonero and today, many of my doubts clarified is the Sonero owe to my mother. Infinite afraid to see a soul, infinite panic when I visited his bed, endless rattle when I bathed in the light of the moon, infinity whisper my mother to sing the Sonero to help my eyes to my fellow tender full moon.
learned to kiss, I learned to guava with Sonero to bailarte on the street, in the room and into bed, kiss Sonero taught me falsely, as a child to kiss, to kiss with fondness. Supe mourn, bury the love I knew, I learned to hate, I heard whistling at night, I knew, I knew, to be today with the uncertainty and the rattle of a child. Today in mom's arms, once again, to my ears comes the murmur beautiful lyrics soneras Caribbean to help my eyes, my desires, relieve rattle of love. Ghosts come today, I visited a coffee goes well, they way they like that shit, better than me smile, is that life and death are by far better living dead. However, bailarte Sonero invited me to bailarte life, dance of life. Mom, I can grab a icaco more? Mom, why no bed is sinking? Mom, why sometimes I forget to love? Mom, I'm dead still alive?
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