I can be mild
I can be wild
I am versatile
I am
I am
I am
Me
Me
Me
Me
So come
Come
Stay a while
A while
with Love
Guady G
Category: Writing
Translation to Ay Mi Amor–Oh My Love
I don’t know what else to do!
I can’t fight the urge to kiss your sweet mouth any longer.
Thinking about you drives me so crazy!
But I will remain calm for what I desire is your soul.
Every night I dream about you being beside me. I dream about the day when my heart is no longer feeling alone and ignored.
I will pray for the day when you to take notice of me.
And when you ask me to be yours my answer shall be yes.
With much love
Guady
Hugs from Brooklyn.
Ay Amor Mío
Ya no se que hacer!
Ya no puedo padecer estas ganas de besar tu dulce boca.
Pensando en ti me vuelve ay tan loca!
Pero mantendré la calma porque lo que anhelo es tu alma.
Cada noche sueño contigo a mi lado, mi corazón nunca mas aislado.
Rezaré que un día tomes cuenta de mi y cuando me pidas ser tuya diré que si.
Con mucho cariño
Guady
Abrazos de Brooklyn
Why are you blogging?
Someone asked me that question. I blog because I love writing. You? I’m happy to share with you and thank you so much. For years it was just me reading what I had written. I’m grateful for my followers. You like my reading. Some of you have communicated with me as well. I really love that. Here’s to happy reading, blogging and sharing.
Namaste Guady G
Does a yellowed torn paper have any value?
I am a paper yellowed and torn.
You want to discard me and for this I mourn.
My appearance now seems so worthless.
No longer white I serve you no purpose.
Perhaps my expiration is long overdue
You’re a big dummy and you have no clue
Of my worth and all that I can do.
There’s a few things I must admit to you.
Your pen is quite leaky.
The words it writes quite sneaky.
You too are outdated.
You are the one that is jaded.
I maybe yellowed and torn but now I’m stronger.
Get your pen out of my face, I don’t need it any longer!
I ask myself why do people rather read stories of pain and agony instead of love. Why is it that books of tortured love are more popular than books about just loving without the pain? Do we need to feel pain to feel the pleasure of love? Why? I don’t get it. Can someone shed some light? Isn’t to be loved our given right? We were babies and everyone just loved us for existing. Why as we age it has to come with proof and follow-up questions? Why do you love me? Isn’t too soon to say you love me? All I know that this world is becoming more cynical, more cold and more detached. It scares me. Does it scare you?
Namaste
Guady G
Hugs from Brooklyn
