You got me in your throat. Those who suffocates doesn't sing.

I breathe for a few seconds, the breeze that comes fullfilled with you, which brings me to the melody of your gestures. And with a knot of fear in my throat, despairingly holding my breath between illusions, I sing you in my thoughts, trying to keep you inside me, recalling the music of your body, the one that screams the true meaning of happiness, because it only exists in you.

    Feebly, I let my body live every particle of you, feeding him with the scarce oxygen of your feelings, repeating over and over the music of your fingers and refusing every blow and melody from Nobody.

    And so, without a new breeze to keep me alive and without knowing another happy song, I got you stuck in my throat. I have you in my throat and choking, I no longer breathe, I no longer sing you.