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Reuben F Apr 2021
Who's wearing sundays
Songs jejune peruses;
May her corsage roses
Dress the fine arrays!

And gathered 'round strays,
Each of them amuses
Their eyes with their noses
For depots off ways.

The fantastic plays
Out of them her bruises;
Songs fed by drunk proses
May enchant in rays!
M Solav Dec 2019
Quiconque se croit libéré
N’a fait qu’ajouter
Des maillons à des chaînes
Qui s‘alourdissent
Écrit en juillet 2019.

— Droits d'auteur © M. Solav —

Cette oeuvre ne peut être utilisée ni en partie ni dans son intégrité sans l'accord préalable de l'auteur. Veuillez s'il vous plaît contacter pour toute requête d'usage. Merci beaucoup.
Jonas Gonçalves May 2014
Hey Sofia!
Love isn't lost.
It's just missing
as the heart.

You fell in love with him
before the rebellion begins.
He fell in love with you
after his mind changes.

Oh Sofia!
You found love too early.
Too early to feel it.
Too early to suffer for it.

Now he feels nothing but cold.
He hears nothing but whispers.
He sees nothing but salvation.
He loves nothing but survival.

Hey Sofia!
Don't be sad
Loving isn't just an ability, but a gift!
A gift which was forgotten...

If everything is over,
what should I do with these verses?
Should I hide them? Should I tear them?
Should I recite them? Please tell me!
Jonas Gonçalves May 2014
I / Passion

I never met someone
who I could fall in love with
– abandoned, it was what I said,
trying to fool the *****.

Crazy is the foreigner's heart
who I allow myself to fall in love with,
even if I've already been born
with dead heart
– peaceful, it was what she said,
trying not to delude me.

Hollow is the lady's heart
who pretended to love without being loving
– convinced, it was what I said,
trying to forget her.

I never met you sentimentally,
because in life, we have to go and find
the best of each day
which fills empty of our hearts,
otherwise, we will die unhappy
– charmed, it was what she said.

II / Consideration

I died with
what people appreciate a lot,
and gradually I realize how
irrelevant my despair was.

Gratitude is maybe what I must feel...
although there's a bigger feeling.

III / Promise*

I'll walk through lonely streets,
trying to forget what I felt
while I expect infinity of my heart
finish and change to better.
Jonas Gonçalves May 2014
Without melodies in words,
we modify the wonderful daydream
which one day we doubted exist.
So, sweat drips slowly by the body
until touching in this drought surface.

Outside, the cold embrace us strongly,
and drops under the skin become,
again, sudden wishes.
Know that even though I have done
several trips inside this place,
I feel ready to go for real;
forgetting all the anguishes.

During sleep which city had,
a pale face was watching me.
And it was fragility of its eyes
which captivated me, and once,
it was the tenderness in its voice
which woke me up.

The anxiety invaded our minds,
making us die of melancholy.
This is so stunning
which I lose myself in life
while I try to live it.

However, your sighs finished
and I heard someone talking next to me:
'a little caress would do well.'
Declaimed the wild heart
which long time it felt lonely
for never having been treated with sincerity.

They taught us
this form of love,
now we depend on it.
They prepared us
to support all,
except our own feelings.
They promised us something different,
but my eyes only see
the monotony which the world's become.

Such love came too fast
and with it an irreparable pain.
We should have lived longer
before dying in the dark.

— The End —