There is a dream that you have before you die of colors and tu historia and las memorias are without the pain.
Without the deadly crash, the piercing of the metal bar into your body and the trolley - all around you there are screams and inside, your body fails you and crumbles and you still hold on-
para la memorias, siempre, no?
Where is your Diego? No, tu amor is awash in color and you close your eyes and your body grows wings and they break. They shatter.
Now you rest forever, and without the pain, you know nothing.
Anyone can make a request for me to write a drabble to one of my icons.