Talking to the Heart
I always idealized it. I never knew her well. I was not exactly the most beautiful woman, but I always bet on her as my favorite. I used to imagine that she was one of those artistic girls with whom you could sit next to her one dawn to imagine, that she would tolerate listening to some of my songs, which was "special", that of a sad past that did not allow her to value herself but I would help her with that, the one who was humble and would look me in the eyes, the one who would smile at me with tolerance, the one who would make me want to live an adventure on a trip, and get out of here, from my mind. I never cried for her, nor acted as if I possessed her. I even tried to meet her and it did not work. She will read this and she will not even know what it is for her. That's life, but sometimes you have to let the heart speak to see what happens.
She made a family, she is happy. I hope to find her greeting her and wait for a miracle, a chance and that she finds out that I still think about her and that I still miss her without having lived her.
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