Sometimes I want to write about you,
for everything past,
what we have,
for the countless ways,
in which I loved you,
about the way they still do.
you were my first childhood love,
innocent and clean,
ignorant borders.
and the first love I realized,
sheltered in the heart,
in his most hidden corner.
I loved you with love, created to give;
with love, which
he was resting;
and with love that destroys everything.
I loved you when she was next to me.
I loved you and even did not.
I loved you in every way,
in which he can love the heart,
and no love was enough.
I still love you
as a dream of a previous life
and this is the only love,
which remained to me.
Goodbye and Kisses ...