I wanna hold your hand

Your pale, beautiful, soft hand. I wanna hold you tight. Like we did tonight, like we'll do tomorrow but like we won't be able to do for much more days to come. I wanna hold you in me. Your scarying face, your tender face, your weird face, your intense face, your concentrate face while you listen Pink Floyd. Our jokes, our songs, our weird foods, our endless talks, our many mornings at your house, our many afternoons anywhere, our many nights around the town and around the wine. Our games, our inner nicknames, our private world we built so beautiful, so complete and so incomplete because it'll end soon. Sometimes i feel nothing towards you. Sometimes i feel everything there is to feel, like now. Maybe it's the night, maybe it's this cheating dawn, improving my senses. Maybe it's the sweet perspective of the end. Or maybe it's the still fresh scent of yours in this shirt you gave me. Maybe it's everything, maybe nothing. Maybe it's all in my mind.

"-Nossa, você, se pudesse, andava com ele pendurado no pescoço."

Oh well, maybe, maybe.