"gigles" poems
When Adam ate the forbidden fruit what did it taste like?
All the good things life has to offer?
All the bad?
Did it taste like sunbeams?
Like a childs rithmic gigles?
Like The sick, upside-down, im-going-to-pee-myself rolicoster feeling?
Like tight hugs?
Did it taste as good as fields of flowers feel?
Like rain?
Like farness?
Like the saltyness of sweat-or tears?
Like silence?
Like long open nights?
Like unanswered texts?
Like lunches alone?
Like the sting of liquor?
Like raisors
Or did it taste like blood?
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
The time
The Days
And that clock in the wall
my laughts my gigles , my tears my joys and my desspointed, and all that memories .
***
I'm a treanger but I'm still a young child
that jumped in the stan
, her hair were flying all over her neck
her eyes are full of painful Imprisoned emations ,
yet with a lot of happiness .
The time
The Days
And that clock in the wall .
my laughts my gigles , my tears my joys and my desspointed, and all that memories .
I'll run and run , until I get tired
and laugh and laugh until I feel pain in my stomach
I'll hug the wind
and fil to eat the clouds
I'll allways
live
as a child
and
feel
as a child ..
writed on 25/06/2014
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC