Friday, January 7, 2011

How To Know If A Scorpio Man Is Attracted To You

The roses that I caught

There is a day between us, one day between me and the dark corridor of your rented house where you have invited me to revive the memories. One day between me and the skin of your living room and antique furniture and the window closed to let out the dust and noise of the city. And soon I will return to you. Yesterday your hands, your legs in the skirt, the white feather duster, yesterday your hair swaying as I was running toward the first image of you in a long time after that phone call: "Come, I want to see you." Yesterday your eyes I wrapped hot as when we were together yesterday, your face, your cheeks and on my thirst for lost time.

And soon I will return from you. Spoke, sitting in a chair, tortured and rings with your fingers; watched your lips and I expect that will open in a smile, one that you used to make me fall in love. Suddenly, as one awakens from a dream, I discovered a woman in the heat of the afternoon and the boredom of the city, the lights of a night you stay in your eyes and he told me. But I do not feel I was a prisoner of the feeling that had flashed into me: that I left you were still a girl and you were a woman. Woman in pink dress your woman in the legs crossed, wrapped in pantyhose, sweet and tender woman, woman to defend and to love. Guido

to your house, soon I'll be with you. I've offered tea and I I started to talk, to remember when you were my sweet love and tears of honey, when, dressed in autumn and wind, sitting on the edge of a fountain to who you thought had betrayed the heart and I will rubandoti consoled. Love chooses his moments in the golden moments and our time that summer was fantastic that we lived together, the summer that knocked Italy and football and flags were flying in the wind. The tricolor waving in the blue of a Sunday in July, the streets mad with horns and olé. I still remember the distant lights, the tip and the lighthouse, the amusement park, sand, games and poems that I dedicate those naive.

"If you were a flower transplanted into the heart
so you do not wither ever.
If you were a docile doe bind me to you and caresses you

every minute and you look in your eyes every moment.
If you were the summer you'll chase between the hemispheres.
If you were a star I would to heaven to be with you.
But you're a woman and I can not help but love you. "

A field of poppies in the sun, swaying in the wind of the red flowers in May. I stop to think about how it would be great to race with you in the midst of all those poppies and watch the sun drop behind the hill and the sky darkens amid clouds of copper, hear the crickets chirping and feel the wind in your hair ... But time has divided us, or rather you have changed and now I would not want you were only a star dead, which sends the light from his past. You have been heaven for me that they look far behind, five minutes at a motorway stop for a coffee and rest your legs. You were only one node within the heart that has melted and I found that the days are just memories as I read your letters in the early spring sunset yellow.

I know I owe you a lot about personality, I know how you've been important to me. A little 'you were falling into my account and maybe it was your fault or the wind that has stained the city. Your sun is fading more and more, I saw the girl who once loved you and you were, you know? She had your face, your body, your legs but her face does not read the time you had changed my heart. Or maybe it was me that was changing. Yesterday. All night I thought of you. And now I'm here in front of your home. I

festive open the door. I do accommodate. And he began to speak: "Of course then the secure future in the hands of love, with your eyes in mine, maybe I was close to happiness there. Today I do not know: I say" who cares what you'll do tomorrow? " , there is less tension and more desire to be, I'm looking for someone to live with me. But this is my fate: I like Gozzano do not like the roses that I caught, what could be and yet it was not. I do not like that the data never kisses and the words never said, I do not love that loves the unborn. " Of course then I was
with you and you said I love the streets, you a rose bush, your bright eyes two hummingbirds, herons your lovely hands as they moved with measured gestures. How beautiful the nights with you, the stars flickering in the blue pinholes. Summer was born on your skin and waiting for us growing up in the evening, came to life the word "together" and not ashamed to take off your bikini. You were my Phryne and I thought I was dying to your young body naked breasts on your new love was born.

Now you remember: those days you were coming with blond hair just above my face and in your eyes reflecting the gold chain. You say you were laughing on me, you want that matters. You say you've just never cried, I turned around I and you were there: the poems you wanted, you wanted to dedicate that to you. You wanted to be the queen of my heart - now I confess - the undisputed master of the feelings, the mistress of the mind. You wanted to but was not. And you agree with me: Roses are the most popular ever caught.

"But you never think of that?" How about changing the position of the legs "Love is a voodoo ritual where the pins are the eyes that you rummage in my soul. They are the eyes, feel me? headlights are pointing in a dark street and you're coming by car the other lane and you dazzled me. " Your eyes are precious ones now that the tears wet, rigandoti face. "Sorry," he said. But what are you sorry? To show you how are you? "I am a stupid" you say still turning their eyes to me. "No, you're not: it is only tenderness" I can tell you. "Are you still my desire" - finally found the courage to say - "I love a idealized figure who reflect. But now I see you, talk to you, has reignited the old flame that never goes out in all these years. Still smoldering under the ashes. That's it. "

And when you went away - now I know - barattai a part of me with your kisses: the part of you that I have inside the heart, written in love Lampostyl on wooden seats in a train that has divided. Smoke of chimneys in the morning and the sun woke up rolling over the rivers, the campaign behind the windows and I was crying thinking about you. "You know at night you I thought "- I say -" who knows if ever I come to mind. Maybe an object, a word, a gesture reminds me ... Maybe it was the hope or resignation, do not know. Maybe it was just nostalgia. I wanted for myself your eyes and your looks, the sweet caress of your words. It was not jealousy. Or at least I do not believe, if anything, was possessive desire. I wanted for myself your kisses and your clothes on the chair and the lure of your hands, your games banned. But nothing and no no. So you can not go forward, you must always have something and someone, a sincere friend know that you understand, in those moments when you realize you made a mistake. You need a love that will always turn on life, like when you were there beside me and the wind swept the sky and the streets and my fears. Among the skyscrapers a flight of doves and the first lights that were lit. Distant echo of voices and you held me tight. "

" I know it hurts the love that goes on. I saw you turn away slowly becoming a dot and I knew that you were mine now. I cried like a baby and I felt an emptiness in my heart. But it falls and then we got up, we slowly recovers and it feels a bit 'stronger. And how many times I fell: I seemed to see the crowd follow you. Seems you: face, hair, gait, your figure. Then I came close and it was not you I felt a mouth full of sand. "You have guessed my lump in my throat, you do close, I caress your neck like you did then. It's like a clarification: it is a gesture that is worth a thousand words. Continuously refreshed: "The forecast is not always prevention, there are many factors at play: a feeling, event, event, error. Okay, maybe I expect them a bit 'too much but you've never disappointed: the game we've been you too. "

Love comes from your eyes like a fluid that hypnotizes me, sudden and intense glow. City lights are lit at dusk. The Mirror Has your eyes, clean sea, that sea bathing in the lagoon where we ran free on the beach, where I discovered that love your eyes. Our faces are closer now, your invited to my lips and kiss you. A long kiss that closes a parenthesis open that day you became a dot on my way on. He came back to life love born in the corner of a bar, your love was your smile and the flight of a gull, the awareness that the time would have divided. He came back from old photographs that come out of a drawer.

And it's time to love, than you. The lights show the good times spent together. The narrow door of your heart has opened to me when you have wanted to see me and like a flood memories have broken the bank of our hearts. Laugh. And my great love becomes again now that my thoughts turn into actions and is no longer a dream touch the lips, watch your eyes, the dark pink that I love and that you dress of a smile.

It is already lighter in your eyes and wake up the dawn the city. Hug is a reality now that between us there is this new night of love between your sighs and my fears. The moon is the currency with which we paid for our mistakes. You are sitting on the bed with one leg bent so the foot is the twin knee with your hands support your beautiful face. I look at your eyes, look at your nakedness, I watch your elbows straight hiding her breasts in my view, I look at your hair mussed. You're my Eve of lost paradises. You turn around, smile, "We took the roses."

Edward Hopper, "New York Restaurant"

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