I write well...

I write well, vacuum. That's all you need to know. because it suits me. Never you will learn how much love he had for you. That will be your punishment. For me, the absolute liberation, for love and frees us of all responsibility: with the religious fervor of a devoted mother and a man's tenacity to get your goals accomplished. I write each letter, each word with the remoteness of my sighs treatment mildewed so hard, for so cheap melancholy which I echo in my thoughts to your effigy. And I breathe amazed that each argument are only valid if you're not by my side. because I love you so: far, free me to be yourself. Beautiful in your essence. Silent in this cruel presence ...
I think as well as you write. And I feel powerless rage and pain of not seeing you anymore, but have you slave to my thoughts. Here you never get bored with me because I always find a phrase, a nonsense that makes you smile. And when I need to go, you just become an idea I've been so portable, for when you need it. True, go crazy a little every day with this routine, but it has worked to keep ironically sane. And I like that.
I imagine pure, smiling. With that look that betrays my thinking and forces me to come to you all the time. And misery consumes me until I return to my senses and go back to being locked in my soul, there, next to my heart, so that each beat will keep you awake and never sleep. And when I sleep, you found a place next to my soul, to keep us talking as we did before the leaves fall they saw us together one last time to swing slowly and calculated between the times of my childhood and old age ...