Today I met my soulmate, but it was too late. I found her with her wings broken and her feet weary. I admired her amidst the perpetual mist that surrounds her halo. I could recognize her, but she could not recognize me. The magic of the thread that binds us tried to capture her, but she thought it was a trick. "It hurts too much" she thought, and she did not want to make her heart vulnerable again. How ungrateful is fate that brought me to your path to smell the perfume I had always dreamed of, the shade of crimson I had always sought on other lips. What a misfortune that you are in pieces, that there are no poems in this world that make you to feel this soul that is exploding, I'm calling your name, you hear the echoes of the past.
I had to swallow that rejection, which begins to dim the dawn that was in my eyes, because you were my symphony, the one I listened to on the darkest hours, the one that healed my scars. How ironic that today, now that I have noticed you, that you are real, that you are finally here, you provoke the most complex sadness, the one of the untold story, the one of the period at the end of a sentence that was never a verb. Today I met my soulmate, but it was too late.
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