a love ends when you have left in that sadness, that melancholy and start to wonder why so many, too many things. The answers are all there and you know your in a row, a procession of expectations, disappointments, broken promises, but would go back.
And, perhaps, no more anger or resentment, even want to explain him or you, or anyone else, because in the end, after all, perhaps there is nothing left to explain or understand. It's all there, in his indifference, in its silence, in his not having nothing more to say, because the words have gone their own way, have become redundant and silly. Distant, like him.
But you look at it and think only that you miss, that will remain forever in your life, as a person with whom you shared so much, perhaps too much. But meanwhile, you wonder why you loved so much, to the point that without him you thought you could not live. You wonder what you saw in him so special and different, so much not being able to do without, to realize now that you live on different planets, which perhaps you have always inhabited worlds. When you finish a
love the memories remain of what were and are no longer in that Kia silver as the moon, witnessed many nights of love and passion, the feeling of emptiness, of loss, the end of a part of your life, an important part, the regret of a wasted opportunity, the feeling of turning off the light. When love ends
you realize that you miss that gentle heat that gave you that voice, his and not another, that rush, that desire, the thousand words that I saw him overtake you so beautiful ...
always love you miss when it ends, and you wonder how you ever let it die inside you, one day after another, you've looked lntamente off without making a gesture or say something, anything .. . if only to hear him rummaging through my heart again, then beat special! But love ends
maybe no because, as everyone will, sooner or later.
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