Hace algún tiempo tuve heartbroken. He had broken so many times it ends up. I lived without it for a while. Then returned. He decided to love again. But the hearts seem to always be on the verge of breaking. The problem is to be hopelessly romantic. Surely if a woman more liberated and less dreamy, then I have this predisposition to be hurt, to love passionately believe in the love stories of fairy tales, happily ever after! In any case, since the point that my heart is broken again and frankly I do not know why, maybe in a past life I was a very bad man, I think it's good to remember the pain. It is a purging process to in some way remember that you can continue living despite the pain and loss. You could say that a poorly-live, or live the ruins of cataclysms, but something is there, painfully beating and move on. 
Maybe there is no more than swimming in our own tears and blood and see ourselves beautiful. And then laugh because it's better to laugh than to be suffering. It might not be more than send us all to hell. Foolish heart! What were you thinking when you turned to love? Perhaps you thought this time would be different? What did you think? Do this time you thought you were going to love forever? Silly! No matter. You're not gonna feel sorry for this time. We're going to have a coffee and let's talk about your travels, your pain, your absences, and perhaps also of those times that you loved so much and let you fool. Then we'll laugh together and the next time we will travel both. At least my heart, we have each to the other and that's all that counts. Right? For someone who has the destructive potential of a tsunami and because she knows the pain of a broken heart:
Poem by Pablo Neruda 20
Write, for example: "The night is starry
and shiver, blue stars in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
At night like this, I in my arms.
kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
I not have loved her great still eyes.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
think that I have not. Feel that I lost.
hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew on the grass.
does it matter that my love could not keep.
The night is starry and she is not me.
That's it. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is lost without her.
as though to my eyes search.
My heart looks, and she is not me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, then, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, true, but how I loved.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
the other. Will be someone else. As before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but maybe I love.
Love is so short and forgetting is so long.
Because on nights like this I held my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this is the last pain she causes me,
and these the last verses that I write.
