My hand tries to erase a past that flashes in my bombed mind. My knees lead me to roads where zombie faces greet resignation; it dranks and kisses their semblance while they walk down empty streets.
I hear you voice in my head, I feel your hand in my tights, your lips in my ear. I feel disgusted by the memories that once brought light to my days among paintings and a bright future where distance meant nothing but a word in your lips.
Then you changed your mind. We've got now a sea between us. You went on with your bright hopes and I came to my room of youth, where I had poets for friends and imagination as a selfish lover. Because of you, those friends of youth, look pale to me now. They lost their shine, when I compare them to your arms around my waist, your whisper during the night and the sun kissing your pale skin, in the morning, while you still fumbled in sheets of light.
At night fog comes to me and shadow's of you dig a grave around my heart, I cannot sleep nor smile, just stay for a while, and wait for a spark of hope to come along.
I hear you voice in my head, I feel your hand in my tights, your lips in my ear. I feel disgusted by the memories that once brought light to my days among paintings and a bright future where distance meant nothing but a word in your lips.
Then you changed your mind. We've got now a sea between us. You went on with your bright hopes and I came to my room of youth, where I had poets for friends and imagination as a selfish lover. Because of you, those friends of youth, look pale to me now. They lost their shine, when I compare them to your arms around my waist, your whisper during the night and the sun kissing your pale skin, in the morning, while you still fumbled in sheets of light.
At night fog comes to me and shadow's of you dig a grave around my heart, I cannot sleep nor smile, just stay for a while, and wait for a spark of hope to come along.
Rita Coelho
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