The laughter is hollow, is the one that has a break between each breath, is the one that when you look at my eyes they are looking at your secrets and your hands are warm they are rose petals stolen in the wind, they are that they want to heal all my fires. But my skin is rough, it is with mounds and without response that brings you the doubts of the price of living. My lips are purple, my eyes are mad and my fingers are a weapon and: "my heart beats for the grim reaper".

There is a joke between each letter, there is a love between the pronunciation, and my voice does not tremble, my voice sounds the way I say your name after not seeing each other since the midnight knock penetrated my bones, I say it in the way I say silence when you are in your pleas that you can, you want, you understand.

But you still smile at me with your warm hands on my cheek, and the laugh that comes out between my teeth is dead, it's butterflies with a single wing, flies without sound and spider webs that sound like the echo of the breaking of my sternum.

It is a call to war, that the dead soldier is taking action, yet, you look at me and "my heart beats for the both of us"

Ta.