It was gray on the outside, it was gray on the inside, the gray was the color of those people who didn’t actually have the inner or outer side without color, but they had a whole life of rhymes between love and pain that ended up erasing the canvas a lot from their lives.
There were living roots in each other’s chests, roots ready to germinate and bloom, grow and color their worlds again, but no one knew how to water those dry hearts, deserts, inhabited by malnourished skeletons of false love.
- Perhaps one day.
- In their dream.
- In their dream.
- They inadvertently cried.
- Perhaps they were in each other’s dreams.
- And carelessly exchanged tears that shone in their abandoned hearts.
After a while, after the drought and after learning to live with this arid biome in which his heart had become, a green shoot was born.
No one knows how, but he was born and grew quickly, taking almost terrifying shape and proportions. Wasn’t there desert? This little cocoon that had grown so fast already gave flowers and filled these gray lives with colors.
Oh! Flowers fired a perfume so impregnating that it took all the air and could not breathe without feeling its presence. How nice it would be if it lasted this spring!
Just a semi-arid and huge desire to grow these dry soils, clearly able to sprout a flower, of color?Love.
When he arrived, spring would not last forever, maybe the rain would come and the sky would sometimes be grayed out with its gray clouds, but it was no longer deserted and now they were busy cleaning the earth, removing the dry corpses from mistakes and preparing the ground?
Was the land so fertile?Only those who knew how to grow were missing
Wasn’t it always spring? No gray, no dry, no pain. Now was the time to cultivate love.