Ya puedo dejar de ser?
domingo, 10 de octubre de 2021
martes, 29 de junio de 2021
domingo, 2 de febrero de 2020
domingo, 2 de julio de 2017
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| River y vos |
Hay muchas formas de quererse, pero la suya era total.
Un amor puro, increíble, alucinante.
Un amor especial como hay pocos. Y ellos lo sabían.
Todos los enamorados del mundo creen que se amor es único y distinto, pero el de ellos si lo era.
Estaban hechos el uno para el otro.
Te amamos por siempre goleador amor.
lunes, 20 de marzo de 2017
She said she was okay.
And you believed her?
Let me tell you wants wrongs with her.
She's tired.
That's exactly what she is, tired.
She's tired of getting hurt.
She's tired of being let down.
She's tired of the lies.
She's tired of caring to little, and not caring at all.
She's tired of holding it in.
She's tired of feeling broken, damaged, worthless, never good-enough, pain.
She's tired of being judged for everything that she does.
She's tired of all her flaws and insecurities.
She's tired of trying.
She's tired of getting hopes up.
She's tired of being traeted like shit.
She's tired of being herself.
She's tired, want to know how i know all this?
Because she's me and i'm really tired.
JH.
And you believed her?
Let me tell you wants wrongs with her.
She's tired.
That's exactly what she is, tired.
She's tired of getting hurt.
She's tired of being let down.
She's tired of the lies.
She's tired of caring to little, and not caring at all.
She's tired of holding it in.
She's tired of feeling broken, damaged, worthless, never good-enough, pain.
She's tired of being judged for everything that she does.
She's tired of all her flaws and insecurities.
She's tired of trying.
She's tired of getting hopes up.
She's tired of being traeted like shit.
She's tired of being herself.
She's tired, want to know how i know all this?
Because she's me and i'm really tired.
JH.
lunes, 30 de mayo de 2016
viernes, 20 de mayo de 2016
lunes, 4 de abril de 2016
"La vida es como algunos sombreros: no le queda bien a todo el mundo..." me decías sacada de whisky y despecho riendo a los tumbos. Y después vinieron malas temporadas, de tristezas que arañaban la puerta de madrugada. ¿Y quién te dio permiso para nublarte la vida de esta manera? cuando silban las balas estar en tu trinchera no es gran idea. El que traga amargo nunca escupe dulce. Los fantasmas calan los huesos, aunque no asusten.
sábado, 2 de enero de 2016
jueves, 31 de diciembre de 2015
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