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another poem in the middle

first this is not a sign of depression is more bn otherwise



My first love me
A mild odor and a warm hug wrapped around me. A slight pressure on the back I relax, I open my eyes to see, but I find myself alone. No longer
nor its sweet smell in the air or the warm embrace, it was only a memory, a memory too alive, and I want to break to mourn, but I can not.
Now the pressure is pain, acute pain that keeps me breathing, but even so, I pursue this memory, I run after him and caught him again and again.
sleep and wake up alone, remembering that last kiss, the last time I felt that hug, that last time I felt the smell of her naked body in my arms ...
My young woman, my first love ...