While reading listen to Cloud Cuckoo by Sasha

It isn’t logical.

Symptoms:

For the past few days I’ve been waking up with your breath on my neck and your hands around my waist. Suddenly, open up my eyes, and find myself completely alone.

For the past few days I haven’t been able to think in nothing but memories of you. Images of your lips, images of your hair falling on your face, wet.

I’ve been living under a beautiful sopor, a delightful fantasy.

But isn’t it real?

Your smell is everywhere; your lips have left traces on my skin…your eyes.

Your eyes are everywhere I look; your skin is everywhere I touch.

And I need nothing else, for this illness they call love fills every corner of my body and my soul.

It isn’t logical. But, perhaps, I shouldn’t mind about logic for a season.

I’ve got you.

Mi adiós, largo y empalagoso; se hizo pedazos junto al tuyo, corto y preciso. Sin embargo, no demoraste ni diez segundo en pronunciar, casi en silencio, un te quiero.