jueves, 10 de marzo de 2011

No se acaba el amor solo con decir adios

Y me basto tan poco para quererte tanto..
I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate it when you stare. I hate the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

Seras mi trampa mortal 

no tendras que convencerme bastara con mirarme