Indian Breasts, India

anyone tell me something, someone says something for me, someone to fill the empty words of my mouth. Someone fills the gray color that I see around.
Feeling alone in the middle of the city, watching the sunset and do not see colors, music that resounds in the mind, music by, music to reopen old wounds, and hear that song always makes me think of you, I remember always your expression in that chair in front of the computer. See us in passing, walking, absorbed in my thoughts, recognize the jacket ... I knew it was you, that you could not be you. And you cut my hair again as I like. Slightly raise his eyes and see you, without even having the strength to stop, keep walking by inertia, with legs that do not even know where they want to take you, and you just have to follow them, short of breath, and his head in confusion. As if we were friends, we pass by, as if we were only acquaintances. Comequandofuoripiove, as now. That rain wet floor that rests on the asphalt heated by the sun of the day, hot asphalt which radiates the unmistakable smell. And I remember as a child when it rained I always feel sick because I felt the stench of fish. And when I was at sea at times felt the same smell, and I said to my mother, "here it is the smell, like when it's raining outside, but she did not hear him, and now I do not feel it either. I can not feel anything right now, if not the unmistakable smell of hot that dips into contact with the drops that fall flat, slowly.