There is nothing but the sound of a wild wind, raging outside.
And, love, I die over and over again.
0 Comments
It has rained for too long. Even so, our eyelids are made of paper and they burn just as easily. As soon as it stops raining, they will parch. A blazing flame will light up our eyes and finally, we will see.
I still long for the colors I haven't found. That golden blue and the silvery red, falling from the sky, just like ice and blood. Oh, love, how the heavens cry, love. I feel so colorless, now. I don't want to sing anymore. I don't. I just want to fly away like that old black bird, from too many winters ago. It flew up and away, beating those big beautiful black wings of its, the damned bird. I never saw it again. No one ever saw it again. I crave to never be seen again, I crave for black wings to take me far from here. I crave for blood, I crave for ice. I crave for golden blue and silvery red. I crave for eternal soft songs. I crave and I long for it all. I long for life. I long for color.
|
Archives
January 2024
© 2011-2024 Pedro Simão Mendes
|