True love

- ...¿And what did you see?

- There was a river... That poor man... He will never know greatness, for he never left the shore.

I don't want a riverside muse, or windy days, or sunsets; I don't want it to not hurt me the morning she decide to leave; I don't want her to show up by surprise when I'm not expecting for her; I don't want this to rhime, as I don't want to try not to try; I don't want her deserving her less than she deserve me.

I can't try to look for her; I can't tell my eyes to try not to see her. She lights up her places, those I frequent fearfully.

There are more than there are less moments of doubt when I feel that I shouldn't love, a least to her, the only one I see at daylight and hear in dreams; the only one whose name fills my soul with a cold despair. Whose voice stealthy brings the melody to warm it; the vengeful God of this philistine, the good samaratian of this dying man's nightmares.