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It was your tears that you shed the most.
Instead of blood running to your body;
it was rage and chaos at its force.
I know there is an ending.
But I haven't knew that it came as a beginning.
You abandon me like a nightingale singing—
I miss our carved names in the oak tree
Melodies we sung at the afternoon of three.
But now, when you left me, I am free.
Thank you for staying.
Endless thank you for leaving.
You're my Man of Action.
My euphoric affliction.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
the tragic series of us
Poesia"Let the poems speak for themselves." They say that a picture contains a thousand words. But for this collection, a picture with a poem reveals another reality.
