W I N T E R

i keep our chat open waiting for the letters to become words and the words to became phrases and the phrases to became conversations cause i always have something new to tell you about the color of the sky or about the stupid thing i did in the caffeteria i wait like a child sitting by the telefone waiting for it to ring for the fist time to see the magic that all the grown ups talk about i wait like a writer sitting on one side of the table while someone read ther most personal words for the fist time i make poetry about your hair, with one eye in the phone hoping for you text hoping that you see some new old picture from “titanic” so you can send me and say “how beautiful can they be?” and i say a lot but im thinking abou u im talking about u always when i say “yes, i love… tacos” im thinking about you im talking about you. And, there is gonna be one day when im going to be free and im gonna text you with the right words for the fist time “is you that i love” no tacos, no titanic, no old pictures from old movies. You. ”

you are the view i dream all these years staring at the wall crying with my voice down praying for a answer praying for a window you’re the hole in my wall the passage out of the sad room my soul have keept me