Your smile was so beautiful I didn’t even care to look at
All the pretty girls in mini skirts
Too bad, we’ve grown
Apart. Too bad, but truth is that
I don’t miss you at all.
Still, your smile was so sincere
I wouldn’t mind seeing it tomorrow
Under the lights of a crowded party,
Where, full of anxiety,
I’d hold your hand and ask you
To immediately drive me back home
This is probably not a poem. Not sure what it is. Who cares?
Let go of my ghost.
Drown your memories of me,
The glances of my eyes,
And the secrets of my soul
Into the crystal waters of Lethe
Love is like a butterfly; so brave, so
It landed on your shoulder,
But you’re not very fond of bugs.
You said no,
And scared it away. I saw
Your blue veins and pale
I think I will never kiss
Your beautiful hands
Yes, I’m nostalgic today. Reposting this again after an entire year.
Photo: Man Ray (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 1890–1976 Paris)
Our love is impure
As light and water
And everything that is born
And lives beyond time
Mia Couto — Fragmento de Amor, Meu Amor
This was originally posted in 2016. This poem is just beautiful.
Like roses, your hands grow
Their own thorns —
With my palm pressed
Against yours, I feel the red
Of love and pain
Pierce through my skin
Again, he’s threatened to kill me;
With his hands around my neck,
I disappear —
In a foreign land,
Inside the house, but lost
In a million of blurry thoughts
Where chance meets peace,
And fate meets his anger
If I still have time to choose
The way I’ll die
How many hours left
Do I have?
How many tears
Am I allowed to cry
During the last day?
I haven’t been able to think, write or do anything productive for a few days now. I can’t even read anymore. This can’t be the way I’m gonna “go”.
Rose red heart piece; you were stolen from me
When that evil man
Closed the door behind us
Can I replace you with
A rose quartz? . . .
Can’t you see I am just another
A repost with a minor alteration.
I remember your smiles, but not your tears.
I wonder if I made you happy,
Or if you were good at hiding the pain