to have a moment where i can breathe the air,

fresh, cold and needed,

makes me question,

am i meant to feel,

more,

less,

or nothing at all?

if feeling is so peculiar, to me,

how come is it so natural.

if questions of love could be answered,

maybe they could be done in a poem,

or on a serenate bellow your balcony.

life is like a theater,

we, the actors,

are but paws on a chess board,

guided and oriented by the laws of the universe.

ignorant and unaware of the misteries that exist in it.

it isn't a suprise how my heart resonates with you,

in a way,

i see myself in you,

and, my dear,

i want you protect you,

has if you were, well...

a younger version of me.

my intentions are good,

but, perhaps, my actions aren't the best ones,

i do like you,

and,

one day,

you will like yourself too