I am crying
For all the things she will not see
The wind over her hair she will not feel
The insects on her legs that will make her scream
The sounds in the night that will wake her up and the memories we will not be able to say at the dinner table anymore
The kisses she will not feel before sleep
The meals she was always dreaming in prepared for us
The right of the people she was always fighting for
The gestures she used to make on the mirror's car when she was driving,
The nice music she thought I played in the living room of my aunt Rebeca
And the fights we will have before the movie theater,
The conversations about the stupid TV
her laughter because she like's American Series
the boys she will not dance with
the new tequila flavours will come to the market
the ice cream at the plaza of the Mexican towns
the meals we will not longer cooked
the gay phrases she will repeat right after me
her imitation of French people
her smile while admiring van Gogh
and the love and passion she found on Etienne
her forever love.
by The Shortfellow
08/01/12
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