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Mistico Mar 15
Oh, consciência, implacável juíza,
Que fere mais que qualquer algoz,
Trazes lembranças de amor desfeito,
E um eco amargo de nossa voz.

O peito anseia reviver a chama,
Que outrora ardia em doce fulgor,
Mas logo a sombra do arrependimento,
Apaga os rastros do que foi amor.

Diz-se apaixonado, anseia o reencontro,
Mas trata-me frio, como um forasteiro,
Sou eu quem vaga por sonhos desfeitos,
Na vã esperança de um amor inteiro.

E então, cruel consciência alerta,
Diz-me que corro sem direção,
Alimento esperanças já esquecidas,
Num tempo que jaz na escuridão.
Mistico Mar 14
Sua voz ressoa em meus ouvidos,
como um sussurro do tempo que insiste em voltar.
Finjo-me de pedra, de indiferença fria,
e revisto minha alma de lembranças amargas,
na esperança de que me sirvam de escudo.

Angústia… essa velha conhecida,
vem e me lembra de tudo que fiz,
de tudo que foi em vão.
Se antes nada bastou,
por que agora haveria de ser diferente?

E a confiança… onde ficou?
Talvez perdida na imensidão do esquecimento,
talvez guardada, adormecida,
à espera de um dia
em que a saudade seja mais forte
do que as dores que me ensinaste a sentir.
Mistico Mar 5
Um dia, olho ao lado e lá vem ela,
Menina de batom vermelho, essência singela.
Seu vestido rubro dança ao vento,
E com um olhar, congela o tempo.

Seus passos firmes, seus olhos profundos,
Empurra o mundo, desvia segundos.
Um leve sorriso, de canto de boca,
E meu coração, por ela, já louca.

Ao passar por mim, sem uma palavra,
Seu olhar me chama, sua presença agrada.
Diz sem dizer: "Vem ficar comigo",
E eu, sem pensar, já sou seu abrigo.

Sempre que a vejo, meu dia se acende,
Com seu sorriso bobo, tão doce, tão quente.
Ela pouco fala, mas diz tudo sem som,
O coração entende, sem precisar de tom.

E quando escreve, se perde no meio,
Manda palavras onde não há segredo.
Mas pouco importa o destino errado,
Pois entre nós, já está selado.

Da amizade ao desejo, um passo tão breve,
A saudade aperta, a presença me serve.
Pois a vontade de estar junto grita forte,
Mais que a distância, mais que a sorte.
Lucia- Jan 19
How can I miss what I never held,
A voice unheard, a face unspelled?
Yet here I am, adrift, alone,
Yearning for someone i've never physically known.

No touch, no words, no fleeting glance,
No thread of fate, no twist of chance.
And yet you live within my chest,
A stranger known, a soul confessed.

I’ve traced your outline in my head,
In shadows vast, in stars up ahead.
Each spark a thread that pulls me near
To something missed, yet never here.

Oh, saudade, bittersweet refrain,
You carve my heart, yet ease the pain.
For even in your shapeless void,
A hope persists, a dream employed.

So, to the you I might never see,
A part of me still sets you free.
To live, to love, to softly be,
The missing half of all I need.
saudade is pronounced ("sawˈdadʒi") (=saoudadjee for english speakers)
it is a portuguese word that doesn't have a translation.. it's like a strong nostalgic feeling to something.. kind of hard to understand.
In that case, it's about missing/craving someone's physical touch without ever have met them.
relahxe Jul 2020
Seeing you for the first time -
you fill me with warmth and affection,
those I pushed away when all was surreal

Meeting you for the first time -
you have a magic wand
and scare away the dragon that instilled my fears

Hugging you for the first time -
you show me the pond
that could easily overflow with all my tears


Us becoming one undermines all our doubts


Your kiss is a drop of water
in my dehydrated mouth

Your hug is the warmth I need
in the icy months of despair

You were supposed to be here now
Our hands intertwined

If only
If only you had dared to love me
Samir Koosah Dec 2021
Sinto saudades…
Do seu cheiro, dos seus beijos,
Dos seus cabelos.
De te assistir chegando quando estou te esperando
Da forma que fico, sem graça, tímido, quase uma criança
Na sua presença.



Saudades…
Do seu toque, da sua pele, do seu gosto
Dos seus abraços, de te abraçar.
De te segurar até dormir

Da sua beleza, inefável
Do jeito que voce me faz rir
Colocar a palma da sua mão contra a minha,
Das suas unhas roídas…



Passo vontades, doídas, mas que vontades boas!
Jes Feb 2021
The rose,
Staid on the porch rail,
Was forbidden in the parlor.
First frost arrived,
Enrobing petals in velvet,
Crimson thick and skin softened,
Bewildering. Those who stroll by
Behold,
But not take —

Who could handle
The scentless spectacle
Spoiling inside?

A private decay in a white blanket tomb,
A fading in a deafened hollow.
Next year the neighbor will plant
New roses to surrender.
Scent of Oranges Jan 2021
The pen bleeds
But the heart still hurt
Yearning to learn that story
To console its forgotten memories

A face that haunts
The same voice that makes you cry in your sleep
Puzzles that vanish
When the sun is up and reality is awake

I don't know
I can't remember
I want to know
I want to remember

The heart that longs
The pain that can't be consoled
Making the present bleak
Them looking at you in disdain

Who am I?
Why am I here?
Why am I different?
Why do I feel too much?

I don't know
I cannot remember
I need to know
I need to remember
Do you sometimes feel like you are searching for someting? A memory, a thing or a person? Do you ever feel like missing something you think you had but you can't remember what is it?
nameless Aug 2020
I sit. The grass is damp with the light rain that falls upon my head.

“It’s been a while”, I say, breaking the silence. Not that there’s anybody here to respond. Not anymore. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. Trying to calm down the nerves that are still here after all this time, the beating of my heart.

All this time. All those wasted years of space for nothing. It’s unbreakable, the heavy blanket in the air, the one holding all the words in the past that I cannot bear to bring up. The one that is better left alone, forgotten.

There is so much I want to say.
So much that I won’t say.

The rain begins to pour heavier. The drops are now pounding against me, my clothes soaking wet. The wind picks up sticks and pebbles, and I watch as they scatter across the ground,

I do not move.
Instead, I stay still. Letting the sky cascade against me, as it forms puddles in the soil. The pitter pat sound is strangely comforting. I take everything in and nothing in at the same time, only focusing on the noise, ignoring the cold, the want to go run back inside.

I’m tired of running.

I want to believe that you’re up there watching, proud. That you can find it within your heart to forgive me for being a coward, for being unable to take the step forward. That even after all these years of silence between us, we are still there, existing between the universe.

I hope that one day, in the future, I will return, changed for better.
That I will finally tell you all the things I should have said long ago.
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