sábado, 14 de fevereiro de 2009

"La reine que se nourrit du pain de ma tristesse" ou "Me, myself and Lennon"

I'm so tired
but not sad
like a solo
in an old
sixties' song.

I feel stupid..
or disputed
would describe
it way better?

It's been hours
I mean, days
that I've had
on my face
this one smile.

Not a smirk
no, not quite
it's something
that'll grow
even when
it appears
far away.

It means that
- I think so -
in the end
I would give
you my peace
just as you
wouldn't have
liked me to.

Even if
I would not
(and I won't
not again)
could you really
be as free
as you say
that you want
me to be?

Or at least
could you let
die in you
that one fear
that weighs out
your own soul
happiness
and desire?

Amused with
my own self
high and out
in my tree
I just smile:
happy mirror
of my old
heart that beats.

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