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?





Love is like a butterfly; so brave, so

Fragile sometimes.

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

White skin.

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
Translation: Lira


This was originally posted in 2016. This poem is just beautiful.

How Many Hours Left

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


I wonder

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 

Incomplete puzzle? 



A repost with a minor alteration.