viernes, 22 de enero de 2010


 "Toda historia tiene un final,pero en la vida cada final es un nuevo comienzo".

Brittany Murphy [Nov10.1997-Dec20.2009]

A Hole in my Soul (aeroSmith)

Yeah there's a hole in my soul
But one thing I've learned
For every love letter written
There's another one burned
(So you tell me how it's gonna be this time)

Is it over
Is it over
'Cause I'm blowin' out the flame

Take a walk outside your mind
Tell me how it feels to be
The one who turns the knife inside of me
Take a look and you will find there's nothing there girl
Yeah I swear, I'm telling you girl yeah 'cause
There's a hole in my soul that's been killing me forever
It's a place where a garden never grows
There's a hole in my soul, yeah I should have known better
'Cause your love's like a thorn without a rose

I know there's been all kinds of shoes underneath your bed
Now I sleep with my boots on but you're still in my head
(And something tells me this time I'm down to my last licks)
'Cause if it's over
Then it's over
And it's driving me insane

Is it over
Yeah it's over
And I'm blowin' out the flame

domingo, 17 de enero de 2010


St Paul to the Corinthians 13: 4-8 8, 13
Love is patient and kind, it is never jealous,
love is never boastful or conceited, it is never rude or selfish, it does not take offense, nor is it resentful.
Love takes no pleasure in others’ sins but delights in the truth; it is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope and to endure whatever comes.

Love does not come to an end. There are three things that last, faith, hope and love and the greatest of these is love.

es de una peliculaa.. A Walk To Remember
laaa megaaa amoooooooo♥♥♥♥♥♥

domingo, 10 de enero de 2010


 Si tú me miras, yo me vuelvo hermosa
como la hierba a que bajó el rocío,
y desconocerán mi faz gloriosa
las altas cañas cuando baje al río.

Tengo vergüenza de mi boca triste
de mi voz rota y mis rodillas rudas;
ahora que me miraste y que viniste,
me encontré pobre y me palpé desnuda.

Ninguna piedra en el camino hallaste
más desnuda de luz la alborada
que esta mujer a la que levantaste,
porque oíste su canto, la mirada.

Yo callaré para que no conozcan
mi dicha los que pasan por el llano,
en el fulgor que da a mi frente tosca
y en la tremolación que hay en mi mano...

Es noche y baja a la hierba el rocío;
mírame largo y habla con ternura,
¡que ya mañana al descender al río
la que besaste llevará hermosura!

I miss yaaa!

Te extraño …

Cuando estas conmigo el tiempo se acelera

Y ruego a la creación para que se detenga

Quisiera no extrañar esa mirada que se
Entrelaza con la mía

Aquellas palabras que convierto en poesías

Aquel cabello que me acaricia y me enreda
Que con su perfume mi corazón acelera

Sobre todo no pensar en tu sonrisa y
Aquellas manos que me acarician

Es por esto y por muchas cosas más que
Te extraño y anhelo tu regreso …

domingo, 3 de enero de 2010


But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

Ay me!

She speaks:
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o’er my head
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

[Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
(Act 2, Scene 2)