THE MAN THAT I LOVE the IInd

The man of the photo
that one, whom I do not meet
I kill myself!
and I take the rest of the images,
of other that I was thinking about knowing
that he invents
that believes in my heart!

the man that I love
he is not the man that I believed that I was
in spite of putting the colors that were absent
I could not end with the picture
of the man that I love two
I put the best thing of me
I drew the smile that it did not have
I delivered to him my soul
with the open heart

I write it in English
so that only the work takes of reading
because his language is these
because the Spanish is not understandable
for his heart
and it is with the heart that I write
that the man who loved
he is not a man
it is an image
it is an idealized sculpture
of masc wax
it is like to look in the mirror
and to meet another proper image

The man who loved
he is not the man who loved
because I love the one who loves me .
of to two
of the hand
straight ahead
with pride
without lies
not even double speeches
So many people were the lies
So many people were the scourges
that received my heart
that the man who loved
it turned into the criminal
that killed my injured heart

This dear being
I throw for the soil my illusions
I ill-treat my feelings cruelly
and even in the middle of the lie
he lied more and more
I do not believe he knows
what is true or not

Because before so many caracteres

before so many attacks to my soul
it must not already be known that it was and that it was not
He's a child
He's a man
He's hungry
and it is satisfied of meal
He's cold
and he has all my warm

He need a lot of tributes
and I need love
He need to believe
everything he think , is true, he believe in his own lies

If one day I said that i loved his shortcomings
and his voice
it was because he wanted to believe
that would not murder me
that would not make me ill
because I wanted to believe
and fight for something that I believed well
without knowing that it was
fixing to me the sword
I wont insult him
I even love him

I cannot forget him

I even love him

I cannot love him
but I even love him

I cannot excuse him,
I even love him
I wont to dicuss whit him,
because of me i'm guilty
he will be
love of my life,
I even love him

the man that I love
whom I ill-treat myself 380 days
to whom I lack the respect
to whom he lied
I broke my heart
I push myself from the highest apex
of the love
How does it do?
How does it follow?
How is it kept on living?
As continuing without his eyes
without his skin
without his voice?
As doing that the life continues
if I do not teach myself
not even the lie
of being able to live
without his beat?????

without my breast in his back
without the bile of his asleep words
without the alchemy that borned
between us
to allow her to die
in this story
without end with roses!

The man that I love
is not really the man that i love

the es a branch of thorns
He hurts my respiration.
The one who had said
that evening
that and I
we were not going to end
with this macabre game
and we were going to write
the most beautiful history
never counted
For
for me
Im sorry my heart!
you are so injured!
I am not worth talking you
in my breast beating!
This woman,
I remain without soul
without illusions
without love
without the man who i loved!
without heart!