A song for a sunny day.

We were all mistaken, girl, we thought it was a game, and well, it turns out it is not. You shouldn't have taken my hand and I shouldn't have kissed you. But whatever is done is done, says the song, and now we must tear apart the awkward sensation that nothing is right, that everything leads to a secure destruction. We shall fly apart and remember our rainy days as the most rare, as the most extraordinary hours before death catches us with her funny claws. It was a great thing to share even though it got us empty and days just pass by bringing nothing, nor obscure desires, nor glare. I shall deny I love you and you shall ignore the rush, and then we both will be happy in the perfect ignorance of happiness. A little bit paradoxical, isn't it? I want to see your curly hair again and stare at you for no reason, just for fun, just so you get shy and say: stop it. I will stop, I will stop for this is not going anywhere, and you are running out of time. Pray you write a letter for me once you are in that strange place called you, once you have put yourself together and give a second thought to the idea of getting rid of your sacred feelings to make them mutate into a storm. Before I could shrug you frowned and then you went away thinking I didn't want to keep you safe because "You are like a hurricane, I can see you loosing ground. I wanted to make you happy, but I couldn't make you even warm. You are like a hurricane, I can see you loosing..."