It's a sad thing, protecting a breakable heart.

Love her but leave her wild.

I hope to arrive to my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.

I could never love her, the fear of losing would be too strong. 

I've always resented mirrors for their honesty.

I feel in every girl there is a spirit,
a wild pixie,
that if let go,
would run and dance in grassy fields
until the end of the world.

And then that girl grows up,
that pixie hides,
but it's always there,
peeking out behind old eyes
and reading glasses,
laughing, waiting,
to one day dance again.