Dear Leya: I saw you walk like a sigh. a white spot in a split second. I only had time to think again you had escaped. what was going to do with you.
called you. but true to your usual ignored me. opened the door and called you. and I was attentive, waiting to hear your trot, the rustling of eucalyptus leaves in your path. I waited at the top of the stairs, waiting for your arrival. tongue out after the race and the smile on. I waited, ready to let go the string that you knew so well: fuck you are a heavy Leya, goes walking. and you, as always, from my anger because you knew it was our game.
saw you on the road. and ran, ran as he had done you a little earlier. and in these twenty meters begged, I thought he should have taken the car, I thought what would have broken, I thought it not happened to you go. if you were going I do not seen again. what would we do without you. boring. Leya
dear: there bipeds, who do not accept that things like you can express emotions and feelings. you can love and affection claim. There are beings who do not accept, you can be part of the family, being a member. are well Leya, or case.
there motherfuckers, that after playing you leave lying around, you kill, mistreat and torture for fun. yes, there are so many sons of bitches. there are murderers, that gun on his shoulder, surrounded by a pack of dogs, say sports rounding up poor frightened rabbits. yes, there are. now I know that there motherfuckers, they understand that first there is the metallic gray four-wheel its your life. and pass, and leave you off the road. so quiet and go to work.
these Leya, those sons of bitches in particular, I wish a few things. I will not say out loud, because I want my wishes are fulfilled. Dear
Leya. I woke up in the morning with you in thought. I just wanted to write this, thank you for your bad breath, your hair in the hallway, by the sound of your nails walking home. to get to watch TV with us, play me the ball. to care for my cats, love them, for getting me out for a walk on Sundays, for giving me cuddles ...
in a few months, the tree will be filled with flowers, and this year, the plum of summer will be a little sweeter. and you know, when you wore heavy and I told you to leave me, you do not want to because I just wanted my cat was not true. is that I did not want dolieras like you're doing.
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