Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
There is a mark on your cheek.
A token of something that used to be.

A shadowed corner of a smile,
Of a giddy mood and conspiracy.

A memory of lick and press and yet to be
And bunch of butterflies. But yet a memory.
How much
I would wish
to be the shape
of your tear...
With all the thoughts
That you have thought of
And all the dreams
You've ever dreamt

With all your worshipping
Upon everlasting strength

And all your waste of hopes
And poetical lament

With every inner struggle
And every night's torment
You exist to be
Another's denouement.

So don't despair, love,
And end your discontent
For you have a purpose,
As you will have an end.
A few words about a philosopher's favourite subjects. And a bit of an ironical title.
profane is the word you seek
when it comes to
looking up
this vicious word

for how can one live
in deeper lies
than the imaginary
of permanent belonging?

for what is eternity
but a mortal's illusion,
and what is love,
but the sum of all of mankind's fears
and insecurities?
Cugetari naïve - partea a V-a: Cateva atribute incalcite ale iubirii

Profan este cuvantul cautat
cand vine vorba
despre intelegerea
acestui crud cuvant

intrucat *** ar putea sa se traiasca
altfel decat in adancile minciuni
ale apartenentei permanente?

caci ce este eternitatea
altceva decat iluzie,
si ce este iubirea
altceva decat suma temerilor
si nesigurantei umane?
Next page