I cry all my loves.
ones I loved and not loved.
Those who loved and I loved it.
Those who may have been but even began.
Those who might be but never get to know.
I loved The untimely.
Those who loved me no time.
Those who pretended to love
and pretended to me.
The cowardice I missed by
and cowardly that I lost.
Those which I did not believe
and I thought impossible.
The hatred that became
and those who hated me loved.
The kids gave me
and I removed them.
Bankrupts, the truncated
the distant and everyday.
False, the given.
The shooting enthusiasts
and killed the passion.
I'm still loving The
and I still love
but "together" is not ours.
I'm still loving The
and I still love
but "together" is not ours.
Because when you cry, almost never does so what causes it.
When the eyes tear, the heart takes
to clean what remains
each of those loves
that, no matter how they were,
were lovers ... at the end.
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