Love is like a rust

I am not one of those people who 
floor boxes can be placed in a box 
the city's slums. 
Love it is as rust, 
bonds permanently attached to trousers. 
That's what we hand in hand with the moment 
twilight in the middle of skating. 
Miss spring, it wears gray 
I refer, I would like to light his clothing. 
Now I'm in a strange dream in bed, 
Ms. spring will pull me up. 
The world you already humbled myself, 
I crawled on my knees, letting 
forgive me yesterday. 
Tomorrow's must not be a mirror. 
I'm in the middle of a melancholic contrition.