Hay nada bueno.

You have no idea the devastation of burying someone who is still alive.
Burying them so deep in your mind, like a hatchet.
That when you pass them on the street, it is as if you have seen – a ghost.
But you know they are there – elusive fragments, but he is there.
You see him in everything,
The deals on every corner
Busy streets
Cars that fly buy
In every ambulance – you fear to see him.
You can’t see him, so you call.
“Bueno” he answers.
Pero hay nada bueno de la.
Piensas que vas a nunca ser bueno un otra vez,
Pues, no sin le.
So you talk to him beyond the grave in your mind,
Against your own wishes, you crumble when he says
“Q haciendo mi amor? Te extraño, mis ojitos.”
Y ahora él sabe q estás todavía enamorarse… Mi vida se acabó.
Porq ahora soy tuyo otra vez.

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