17 FAR FROM YOU

The days were lengthy and the nights farthest which I see as advice

I thought in the insomnia which gave me as extra-time

I thought in the they call the living film when we expire

In those souvenirs about lasts instants before go out from physical life

I passed away each night recalling us before drive me to the divan

Remembering our moments, our passions at nights watching the sky

It was desolate, each memory was like a sword thrust in my heart

One soaked to my mind and the pain became imminent at brain

Between the colds hugs of the rise and the frightful shrieks of the wind

Entering for the window, inclusive sometimes I surprised myself speaking softly

Not quite whispering in a state of drowsiness, "Good night, My Angel"