2020.
the first snowflakes to fall
on your shoulders
melt with the touch
of the warm skin
but your lips
red even frozen
cut me deep
without blood i bleed
snow from the lips
of whom was alive once
to greet winter blowing kisses
at midnight when the air is freezing
when nothing exist
but phantoms of old ruins
whose souls have melt
at the first touch of summer
as i have done when in rome
alive once i loved with feral love
as i do even in death
as a ghost with a short past.
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Tecelã de Sonhos - Poesia D'água
PoetryMyths, Dreams and Poetry. port/eng it is a hymn as much as it is an obsession - but isn't it holy? - Vim d'uma morosa manhã de abril, cresci como coruja cantante na copa do pau-brasil, tornei-me como bruma e desfiz-me...
