The experience is 15 years,
and love appeared.
It was so gentle, so lovely,
daring. Alive, I fell in love
and didn't know what
love was, but I enjoyed
so much being with her
that I couldn't wait to
see her. She showed
me the best, and I had
no hurry; I just wanted
to be with her, and time
didn't matter. She left me
clues, intentions, but it
didn't go beyond that.
Until one day, we shared
a kind of kiss, but without
commitment.
Until one day, my friend told
me that she had slept with
another friend of mine.
A chill ran through me,
so afterward, always hoping
that she would come back
to me, it was waiting,
and perhaps was my
only chance. I waited
and waited, and we
never saw each other again.
Love calls, seeks help,
wants to be reciprocated,
needs confirmations,
and none of that happened.
Over time, she became a
girl for everyone, so it
was impossible to claim
her for oneself. But if I
bring her up here, it's
because she was my first love,
and I can't help that.
People who don't commit
only cause harm, and one
doesn't know that this person
will occupy such a special place
and that it's very difficult for
someone else to reach so
deep and live that love of
happy dreams that seems
like we come designed to
feel so strongly that it's
dangerous for people who
are malicious.
Love, so pure and treacherous,
returns to my love and be my
company, give me back those days.