Bmi For Females In Another Country

ROXANA

Sometimes I wanted and other
times I did not know love, love, as I told you you would
once, as would
tell you again if you still love me.
Is today the day that was then, as night
in pictures:
violet light in the same coffee,
the lighted lamp in the darkness where I've been waiting
, Roxana;
flowers on the table a noun ;
red, as the heraldry in the cup
do you remember the bolero on the terrace,
of your dance moves after mine?;
looks, my love, world size:
seem, stars by Van Gogh;
on the shore, the orange enlightening
with so much white neon moon
silence, steeped in crimson;
my words of love, raw,
the evening stroll along the river, where your hand
has
red roses and a full moon and strength exercises
a wedding dress on the water.
Remember? I went to your hands
under heaven. Your blue eye winking
was a flag hoisted between my doubts
and the four walls of your kisses.
I wanted to stay in the dark with your lips, touching the air
burning your tongue,
know I am alive inside your mouth ...
But you'll love, as you left.
The night is the memory of another night,
your love is the memory of another love,
of another river, another boat and other lips. No kisses
twice, my love,
the same woman. Is your look
the hardest mirage, a decoration.
I know that water is not the same water:
not forget me no mirror, I recognized
time being ...
not forget me. Call me one day.
may be that, at the end of another night,
an empty bed is waiting
if you let the sheets
spread the weed, the kiss that you gave. Perhaps
dawn
is only a symptom of what lies ahead, the first cold
body that looks so many times.
Is it late love? I try not to think:
to see you, love, take that corner,
first thing I did was peek
believe you could go back.