The ultimate hispanic personals

My beloved: 

The pencil has refused to get sharpened, but today, amidst the wind that smells of limes, in this midnight I leave this piece of writing.

Clad in wind, the scar of your departure emerges in prayers among the trees that with their shadows paint our nostalgia for those gone days.

Slight my grin, in my soul my love for you still burns.


July 4


My Beloved: The pencil has refused to get sharpened, but today.........

No longer do I question heaven, the mourning yard still closes its door
before me. No haste, the life banquet is served, and I, dismissing the sacrifice tradition, on Sundays I sing my longing for you, far more than the sermon in Mass.

Your absence at the table ... Irony! Loving you so much, I die from thirst in front of your fountain. My path is entwined by roads in my imagination. You, always you, fill up my remembrance with notes.

Poetry has fallen asleep.
The body, like a wound, painted by noon light,
The heart has departed from my life.

We just did not know how to hold the infinite hankering with songs from the moon.

Unable to sleep in the same bed, in different pillows, inasmuch as you, my sea town, turned into baggage, willing to fulfill a journey when fall came.

Don't think this letter is written amidst slumber. It is written by hands that draw boundaries of love aloof. Albeit you are not here, your distant love still lingers in my mind.

I love you as the acoustic guitar,
Amidst nostalgia and hindrance,
I love you as the peasant who knows about his land
And gets to understand life.

No sufferings, no tears, desire lives in spreading beams over tattoos in my skin.

Even in the mountains I hear your song, I know your heartbeat dwells in the crest, in innocence, in the village, and in a hidden kiss at dusk.

This letter is only to touch a moment, like a miracle in grammar, with your name written in fire in all my fantasies.

GaliciaSomeday you will read about this love, emerging every night towards the light of your eyes, searching for your mouth in the sky that belongs to us, as night belongs to day. 

Awareness will come to you as my prayers for you burst in my veins each dawn, and you will learn how universe cracked one night, when we touched the sky, while treading our paths we met.

Then you will recognize that very moment when a loving act becomes a sin...

Fugacious rhetoric of my arcanum,
languid senses goldening in saliva.

I am a rictus of madness, geometric nudity causes me no trouble inasmuch as I conceive your blood conversion to the horizon; and the mirror, now broken, is not oblivious to your existence.

Magnolias and nards are on the verge of rebirth, and I along with them, cherish and fondle with tenderness ... your life kept aloof.

Hostal de Campo La QuebradaI bid you farewell at dawn every single day, standing at the door of our room, holding senselessly your ragged shirt ... and the world follows the lovers' sigh that, as psalms, filled with gaiety the eternity of not being twosome, but one in interrupted interlude.

I lovingly kiss your light, the projection of your sea, your thirst for delusion, your words, your name ... and your absence.

Love:  Ylia Kazama

P.S. This warm letter written by a broken pencil, along with the others, will be driven by me to slumber in the sea; lingering till one day... it reaches your shore.

P.S. This warm letter written by a broken pencil, along with the others, will be driven by me to slumber in the sea; lingering till one day... it reaches your shore.

"Love Letters to the 'Eagle in the Wind"
Ylia Kazama©
  Go Ylia´s Heart - I know I'll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more. Beatles Next