For you, the last princess

I still keep three kisses in my nostalgia,
They take their heat and look, to the profunfindad.

I still feel the whispers of his cowardice.
Tenuous in vanity, cold in their tone of solitude.

Wrecking in the sea of ​​his betrayal,
Embarrassing the writing of the heart.
I used the moderate constant voice,
And the uncertainty of the latent end.

From my dreams, now it is not present.

Without her, without her hurtful sweetness.
Of what I stay, only a dream
And the inspiration for a last verse.