My friend T, the Cowboy

Heavy clouds, heavy as
My guardian angels,­
Weighed down and poisoned
by the touch of my soul
And still they manage
To somehow

Float in the sky,­

As if they were dancing­.

Perhaps an angel’s love
Is lighter than my sadness.


Thank you for completing my, hm, idea of a poem (Hoje Mais Cedo).
He sent many versions, but this one is my absolute favorite. ❤

Edit: You’re not going anywhere, T. Poets like you can’t die, especially when they’re also cowboys.




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