Hey, dream about me.

Just minutes ago
I dream about you.
I travelled by your city,
crops of wheat and sunflowers 
    passed by 
            both sides of the road.

We went to the seaside,
I didn't noticed dawn.
And then i hugged you,
and i spoke.
i spoke,
I spoke a lot,
and i cried,
I cried.
I cried a lot.
And tears and words easily flowed
                   as the same thing.
I believe I cried all that i cannot do
           when i'm awake,
never know why.
I'm not proud of it,
it's only a thing
among others things,
that do not happens to me.
Trust me, i've tried.

Both were crying 
in times, 
        by the sea,
near your home.
Told how much I' loved you
told you
that
i couldn't love another.
Told you
(and realize)
that I haven't even tried.

And we cried some more,
and we hugged some more,
it felts really nice.
in a way
I think,
no matter what happens,
I will be not able
to put into words
in all the time i hope i have left.
Nevermind.

And then,
just after that
both wet cheeks
turned apart.

Felt your pale skin
as its separates from mine,
for the last time.
Breathed your scent
for the last time.
Felt growing in me
the willing of kissing you,
for the last time.
But I stood up,
and I turned around,
and I walked away,
and an big, big something,
came out from a place
i cannot ever know
        where it is located,
just disappeared.
And this was the last time
there was a way
in which we were one.

And then i walked
into something,
corporizing
in the shape of soil
below my feet
as i step on it.

Not a second before.
Not a second after.

Now i've waked up,
It's a quarter minus eight.
It's a sunny hangover's free
sunday.

I'll take a shower
i'll write this down,
i'll read it once.
I'll understand it.
I'll complete
this intimate,
capricious circle,
i forged myself
to get by.

And then i'll find myself some coffee,
Downtown.

I'll find myself something to read.

There's some music i won't hear again,
there are some poems i won't read again.
There are
      second bottles,
i won't empty no more,
perhaps not even the first ones,
who knows.

There's a dream, i hope,
i don't need to dream
again.
This dream.

It happened
Just minutes ago.
No metaphors,
no cryptic gimmicks,
no poetic innuendo.
I believe its a good thing.
I can feel it.
Is as simple as that.

I don't believe in happiness
or better to be said,
i believe it´s existence
i know happy people,
at least, the illusion of it trough time.
Seems to work the same for them.
It's like a beautiful,
               glowing numbness,
that don't happen here.
Not to me.
Never did,
and if it did,
(when you were mine)
It did not lasted.

But i'm starting to believe
in something else:
A painless
              kind of void
 that works for me,
even if it is
as good as it gets.