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quarta-feira, 7 de outubro de 2015

- a poem to the past in presence

I still resign in the mystery of your eyes,
the diligence of being abandoned,
disposed and nurtured in a sad pattern
of these melancholic lives.

I know, I do stretch the sympathy of Time
In this agony of desiring you for my own...
wishing I knew break all barriers you are surrounded by
but then, once again, in all ends, you are gone

If I could renounce the pact I did with the Skies
or skip the cross of promises I am in,
I would hand myself to you with no disguise
and feel sheered in every single thing.