terça-feira, novembro 9

flowers bloom


Spread in disorder
I always fall in love with the beauty,
and little by little I start breathing one love,
spring - revives inside my chest
and flowers bloom obstinately
expelling thorns through all my flesh.
You said
love is immortal
but it will be in grave peril
as time goes by
,
and I closed my eyes in firmness when you asked
don’t fly away from me though
or at least not forever
,
just wondering about dreams
and why do I keep diving so deeply in them,
trying to force myself to sleep
just to escape from reality.
I think
love - it is not immortal,
some dreams can last forever
and others disappear with the winter,
when wounds waste away the thorns
and flowers wither with cold.
I guess
this might be the grave,
and this might be the peril,
but I can’t promise not to fly
if beauty reappears with wings
asking me for eternity.