POEM

I speak only with your memory, somewhere I lost my way to the best story of my life, which I'm saying the best stories are the ones that in the end have that epic failure that you never understand.
Stranded in that winter I find myself and it's summer, that memory of sleeping in the corner of the bed I underneath you because we went through a long fight of who slept where and left the bed empty, but the best is how those ardent kisses calmed cold.
I cold now I have my heart breathing that goodbye. With you I had 100 first times, I do not remember dates because I always wasted the time when you went through my window with that sweet melody that came from your skin, that I say if you sang beautiful and smelled of honey.