Crazy Angel of Love and Flower

I do not even know what I was talking about, but something tells me I was talking about her ... as I always do. Perhaps I could talk a whole life about the few years I spent together. Those few years were then neither more nor less than all eternity. Listen to what I say! The Infinite exists. You've watched it all times and you have not even figured it out. You looked at him in the smile in her eyes. You lived him loving her with sincerity. He exists, my friend! Exist! And only a woman can show it to you, and only one woman can reveal it.

The woman ... Crazy Angel of Love and Flower drunk with her own perfume. This is the woman. A wingless butterfly that still flutters unceasingly and a dream you can only live when you're awake.

A woman penetrates your heart and nestles in your soul, then goes through your mind and takes your thoughts.

I remembered. I wanted to talk about the perfume of roses. Women smell the roses and the smell of roses of women. I did not say in vain that the woman is like a flower of her own perfume.

She is drunk by her own perfume because she knows her true value. He knows what he deserves, knows what he wants, knows what to ask from life, and especially he knows how to ask. It's like the rose in the vase. It blossoms under your eyes, gets drunk with perfume, then wrinkles slowly because the water that gives it life begins to kill her. You're water. The man gives life to the woman next to him and he is the one who always makes her happy, always beautiful, she always. As soon as the love that she offers degrades, the woman's soul begins to wipe out the dry rose water that once held it alive.

You take care to keep the woman next to you happy and beautiful always. Be careful to love her as it deserves ... or you will be like me ... dead water in which no algae are alive ...