This is a way to face the problem and find a solution. And I accept that we no longer are, but we were. And that hurts. A lot. Deep inside. A great injury. I like him very much. I love him. Still. I wanted him for me. For my arms and lips. I miss him. A lot. What a pity we did not keep on going together. We did not grow up more and more.
He is gone. I am here. We were.
It is so sad. Because there is no stories to tell. Jokes to laugh about.
He does not exist. No longer. He is gone. To be happy.
I do not want his tracks. His foot steps. If he does not exist, his contact does not exist either.
What is left it is a basket to pour all the tears, and to shoot all the love. Because there is enough love insigh myself, although not enough to make him hold my hands.
Forgive me.
Accept it as I had accepted.
One day I will catch your hands, once again. And I walk next to you, and you will say you will forgive me, and I will repeat you the same.
When I look at the street, I see all the promesses running all the way to nowhere. They are broken, made in pieces.
I think of you so much. I dream you more. But I do not want too. I want to take you off from my inside. I want to pull you out.
You are happy, my love. Please, let me call you once again "love".
Be everyday happy.
I will try to be.
From you I will always bring the perfume. From me you will always lead the smile.
posted by Joana M. Soares @ 12:44 AM
1 Comments:
my blue joana...memories is all that we have and they're full of colours...what is the colour of love?
please, be happy, for you, for me, for all the broken hearts...
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