Living in hell is living with you my love. I am living in hell thanks to you. Loving you, and patiently waiting for the right time to see you, and finally seeing how that moment vanish from my... our hands and my... our wait. I never went to you after waiting an eternity.

               I waited for many moments and many times yet, when the moment arrives, I decide not to go.

               Hell is your presence, hell is my waiting, and hell is my options of deciding whether if I go or not. Hell is god for giving me the choice, hell is god for not just send me to your arms without my concern.

               I waited for you an eternity again and again that moment went by leaving me with nothing more than paper and ink

              Why I do that woman? Please let my heart know.

              Please come and let my heart know, but  by telling me we will be relating each other, this by seeing you the rain fall blessing the flowers, thus by seeing you I will be the only man on earth thus by seeing you the question will be forgotten.

               My women, what is this love that changes every time I breathe? What is this love that has a different taste every time I feel it for you?

               You are god’s hand when you get me out of hell but the same hand that throwed me in the first place.

               You get me out you get me in, whenever I feel certain comfort in either of these places, you don’t know when you get me out, you don’t know when you throw me in. you never notice, you never do it on your own but whenever my variables tell you to, whenever my desires become your desires.

               As far as my eyes can see I see a line that marks where the horizon ends, and the sky begins. I only see a beautiful woman trapped in a beautiful body which god made of the peat of his creativeness. Your hips are as high and dangerous as the mountains. Yet I want to climb them to no matter the cost and your feelings unknown to science, religion, and consciousness.

               I beg you. Please look at me even for no time at all. Please don’t make me feel dead even though I am before your feet. Don’t you see as I write I cry, and I get to know love through a different door?

              You are not here, thus I love nothing, if I see your presence don’t ask and believe, but see this writings as the proof that I love you while you are quarantined and body less.