Views and past

 

Past is the origin of what makes us senile
past is the pain we carry every day.

 

Aggrievements dance with our sad smile

Past are the sorrows that keeps us awake
Past are the tears falling down my face

 

Remembering every woman I loved.
How more your love greater is than fear of loving again

 

In addition, horrible pain of having lost face at those moments of decision.
I cherished and kiss imaginarily the good women

 

Or the bad and the feelings when having sex

Alternatively, companionship that went over with it.
I had some bodies and characters at the bed

With my person and satisfaction accomplished
the fear with the flames of desire of having another,

Or more, finding the one to spent the silver years,

One to a couple, a real woman, and her man.

 

The sun rises and the phases of the moon do not keep me alive.

Only some hope is avoiding my last flight to terminal velocity and expected oblivion, my opinion is that I lost already, I love you so much that never will even try, whoever you are. 

 

Forgive me for leaving my sons, if I must
they have already other affections also, and dust is all around.

In this plain of empty hearts, ambiguousness given, is never to thrust.