Certain images will remain as scars inside. Come together for you and they stay there. And you're living, pretending that I have never been hurt or touched by the events, without thinking about what could be and, thankfully, was not. Burn like salt, some time ... In those dark moments of sadness where you cry and you do not know that. They come suddenly, with their burden of silence. Because maybe that was the only time you had fear, the real one, what makes you think that you could lose. And lose it all. That fear makes you blood run cold and you choke the breath. And see her in the eyes of those who now cry, even if you have the presumption think that is the same. Some feelings do not spend more, certain sounds and silences and tears and the fears you carry around forever. Thinking it is a moment. A fraction of a second. Stop. Immutable. Eternal.
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