That for every rule there is an exception. The exception in this case I do not know, but the rule was this: "Never get involved with people who just leave a relationship."
According to the bad language "the pain of love is with love that heals us," perhaps it anyway, or simply, is that moment where we got lost and somehow somewhere someone meet us and us by the hand. In a way, that person knows what we need, what we hear, and what will make us feel better. It's as if our souls in an instant they met, and the moment seemed lost in the eternity of loneliness decades or centuries of an empty euphoria in which I deceived himself that the way things were going was good, but nothing could be better than the instant that we would not stop, that the second fragment which perpetuates in our mind, second in which our feet would not touch the ground, and our souls would be lost in the immensity of moments that were and always will be stored and recalled all next time where they could sight it looks, the same lips touch, they exchanged caresses hands, and finally, every night the feeling of empty bed became vivid those memories would forever link the not so distant.
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